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^'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS 
AND LYCIDAS 



MILTON 'S 
L f allegro, II penseroRO, 
Comus and Lyoidas; 
edited 
irith introduction and notes by 
T. p. Huntington, 



( standard English olassioe ) 



B08T0H, 
Ginn and Co. f 
1000. 



2nd. Copy. .f[y. 

2 Copies rec'd. Jan 5th, 190 G 



51036. 



Copyright no. 1899 79165 
Deo. 6. 




g.: Ma, 



f-v^i. 



After an engraving by FAITHORNE. 



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PREFACE. 



In Milton's Tractate of Education there is a passage which 
suggests in figure and with fine harmony the duty as well as the 
delight of every reader of Milton's poetry. " I shall . . . straight 
conduct you to a hill-side," writes Milton to Master Hartlib, 
"where I will point you out the right path of a virtuous and 
noble education, laborious indeed at the first ascent, but also so 
smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect and melodious sounds, 
that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming." With the 
reader of Milton, in like manner, the effort, laborious though it 
be, must ever precede the pleasure. Every line, every word of 
Milton's poetry has its meaning, and very often diligent search 
must be made for it ; but it is nevertheless true that he who gives 
his days and nights to the search for this meaning and finds it 
wins for himself a culture scarcely less precious than Milton's own 
" virtuous and noble education." 

Since so much has been written about Milton, and that, too, so 
ably, it seemed wiser to give in the Introduction to the present 
volume the best of what has been written by some of the more 
modern critics about the poems here edited rather than to attempt 
a criticism which could hardly hope to equal, much less to better, 
what has already been so admirably done. Furthermore, the diver- 
gence of views expressed by the critics here quoted will give the 
student abundant opportunity for discussion, and thereby lead to 
the formation of opinions more just than could possibly result 
from the perusal of any one man's single criticism. 

The text of the poems is taken from Masson's library edition 
of Milton's poetical works. Here, as in the case of the selections 
printed in the Introduction, the reprint is as exact as it was 
possible to make it. 

The Notes, as must be the case where serious study is to be 
made of poems whose lines have been so much fought over by 
scholars as these of Milton, are necessarily rather full. Several 
important interpretations are sometimes given to a single passage. 



Vlll PREFACE. 

The necessity the student is thus put to in choosing the most 
reasonable of these — and it is the business of the teacher to see 
that he has good reasons for his preference — ought to lead to 
clear thinking. The study of parallel passages should be left 
ordinarily to the maturer work of the college, but in the case of 
Milton some work of this sort is absolutely essential to an appre- 
ciation of his genius. Some limit needs to be set, however, and 
hence all parallel passages in works later than Milton's time, 
with two or three exceptions, are rigidly excluded, while those in 
works before his time are given only where the resemblance is so 
close as to make it probable that they were actually suggestive to 
him. Passages in the Bible, in Shakspere, and in Milton's other 
poems are merely cited, it being supposed that every student has 
at hand a Bible and the works of Milton and Shakspere. These 
passages should in every case be looked up, both for the light 
they will throw upon the text and for the familiarity this sort of 
reference will breed with three of the world's great books. Ques- 
tions and problems, such as the editor's experience in teaching 
High School students has shown him can be profitably set for 
independent study, are dispersed throughout the Notes. 

The obligations of the editor are many. In the Notes use 
has been made of all the important editions of Milton's works, 
from Newton's to the present time, and with the exception of the 
matter taken from the editions of Warton and Keightley, to which 
the editor unfortunately did not have access, all quotations and 
citations are made at first hand. In the case of the exceptions, 
the editor has consulted such reliable sources, usually indicated 
in the Notes, that it is hoped no inaccuracy has resulted. Credit 
has everywhere been freely given for all matter which did not 
seem common property. To the Macmillan Company the editor 
is indebted for permission to use Masson's text and three of the 
selections in the Introduction. For other copyrighted material in 
the Introduction he is indebted to Harper & Brothers, to Long- 
mans, Green & Co., to Walter Scott, to D. Appleton & Co., and 
to Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. Prof. Albert E. Jack 
of Lake Forest University offered a number of suggestions, which 
have been made use of in the Notes. 

T. F. H. 

Stanford University, California, 
October 16, 1899. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Introduction xi 

Critical Comments xi 

Bibliographical Note i 

L'Allegro i 

II Penseroso 7 

Comus 14 

Lycidas 50 

Notes 59 



INTRODUCTION. 



I. CRITICAL COMMENTS. 

WORDSWORTH'S SONNET TO MILTON.i 

Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour : 

England hath need of thee : she is a fen 

Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, 

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 

Have forfeited their ancient English dower 

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; 

Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; 

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : 

Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : 

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 

So didst thou travel on life's common way, 

In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 

The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 

[Brooke, English Literature, pp. 161-168. 2 ] 

John Milton was the last of the Elizabethans, and, 
except Shakespeare, far the greatest of them all. Born 

1 This, Milton's own On the Late Massacre in Piedmont, and Keats's 
On First Looking into Chapman's Homer are among the best sonnets 
in our language. For some comments on the first line of the present 
sonnet, see the introductory essay in Ernest Myers's Selected Prose Writ- 
ings of John Milton. 

2 For some strictures on Brooke's criticism as it was originally pub- 
lished, see Matthew Arnold's essay entitled A Guide to English Literature. 

xi 



xii INTR OD UC TION. 

in 1608, in Bread Street (close by the Mermaid Tavern), 
he may have seen Shakespeare, for he remained till he was 
sixteen in London. His literary life may be said to begin 
with his entrance into Cambridge, in 1625, the year of the 
accession of Charles I. Nicknamed the " Lady of Christ's " 
from his beauty, delicate taste, and moral life, he soon 
attained a reputation by his Latin poems and discourses, 
and by his English poems which revealed as clear and 
original a genius as that of Chaucer and Spenser. Of 
Milton even more than of the two others, it may be said 
that he was "whole in himself, and owed to none." The 
Ode to the Nativity, 1629, the third poem he composed, while 
it went back to the Elizabethan age in beauty, in instinc- 
tive fire, went forward into a new world of art, the world 
where the architecture of the lyric is finished with majesty 
and music. The next year heard the noble sounding strains 
of At a Solemn Music ; and the sonnet, On Attaining the 
Age of Twenty-three, reveals in dignified beauty that intense 
personality which lives, like a force, through every line he 
wrote. He left the university in 1632, and went to live at 
Horton, near Windsor, where he spent five years, steadily 
reading the Greek and Latin writers, and amusing himself 
with mathematics and music. Poetry was not neglected. 
The Allegro and jPenseroso were written in 1633 and prob- 
ably the Arcades ; Comics was acted in 1634, and Lycidas 
composed in 1637. They prove that though Milton was 
Puritan in heart his Puritanism was of that earlier type 
which disdained neither the arts nor letters. But they 
represent a growing revolt from the Court and the Church. 
The Penseroso prefers the contemplative life to the mirth- 
ful, and Comics, though a masque, rose into a celestial poem 
to the glory of temperance, and under its allegory attacked 
the Court. Three years later, Lycidas interrupts its exqui- 



INTRODUCTION. xiii 

site stream of poetry with a fierce and resolute onset on 
the greedy shepherds of the Church. Milton had taken his 
Presbyterian bent. 

In 1638 he went to Italy, the second home of so many 
of the English poets, visited Florence where he saw Galileo, 
and then passed on to Rome. At Naples he heard the sad 
news of civil war, which determined him to return ; " inas- 
much as I thought it base to be traveling at my ease for 
amusement, while my fellow-countrymen at home were 
fighting for liberty." At the meeting of the Long Parlia- 
ment we find him in a house in Aldersgate, where he lived 
till 1645. He had projected while abroad a great epic 
poem on the subject of Arthur, but in London his mind 
changed, and among a number of subjects, tended at last 
to Paradise Lost, which he meant to throw into the form of 
a Greek Tragedy with lyrics and choruses. 

Suddenly his whole life changed, and for twenty years 
— 1640-60 — he was carried out of art into politics, out 
of poetry into prose. Most of the Sonnets, however, belong 
to this time. Stately, rugged, or graceful, as he pleased to 
make them, some with the solemn grandeur of Hebrew 
psalms, others having the classic ease of Horace, some of 
his own grave tenderness, they are true, unlike those of 
Shakespeare and Spenser, to the correct form of this dif- 
ficult kind of poetry. But they were all he could now do 
of his true work. Before the Civil War began in 1642, he 
had written five vigorous pamphlets against Episcopacy. 
Six more pamphlets appeared in the next two years. One 
of these was the Areopagitica ; or, Speech for the Liberty of 
U?tlicensed Printing, 1644, a bold and eloquent attack on 
the censorship of the press by the Presbyterians. Another, 
remarkable, like the Areopagitica, for its finer prose, was a 
tract On Education. The four pamphlets in which he advo- 



xi v INTR OB UC TION. 

cated conditional divorce made him still more the horror 
of the Presbyterians. In 1646 he published his poems, and 
in that year the sonnet On the Forcers of Conscience shows 
that he had wholly ceased to be Presbyterian. His politi- 
cal pamphlets begin when his Tenure of Kings and Magis- 
trates defended in 1649 the execution of the king. The 
Eikonoclastes answered the Eikon Basilike (a portraiture of 
the sufferings of the king) ; and his famous Latin Defence 
for the People of England, 1651, replied to Salmasius's Defence 
of Charles L, and inflicted so pitiless a lashing on the great 
Leyden scholar that Milton's fame went over the whole of 
Europe. In the next year he wholly lost his sight. But 
he continued his work (being Latin secretary since 1649) 
when Cromwell was made Protector, and wrote another 
Defence for the English People, 1654, and a further Defence 
of Hiniself against scurrilous charges. This closed the 
controversy in 1655. In the last year of the Protector's 
life he began the Paradise Lost, but the death of Cromwell 
threw him back into politics, and three more pamphlets on 
the questions of a Free Church and a free Commonwealth 
were useless to prevent the Restoration. It was a wonder 
he was not put to death in 1660, and he was in hiding and 
also in custody for a time. At last he settled in a house 
near Bunhill Fields. It was here that Paradise Lost was 
finished, before the end of 1665, and then published in 
1667. 

We may regret that Milton was shut away from his art 
during twenty years of controversy. But it may be that 
the poems he wrote when the great cause he fought for had 
closed in seeming defeat but real victory, gained from its 
solemn issues and from the moral grandeur with which he 
wrought for its ends their majestic movement, their grand 
style, and their grave beauty. During the struggle he had 



INTR OD UC TION. x v 

never forgotten his art. " I may one day hope," he said, 
speaking of his youthful studies, " to have ye again, in a 
still time, when there shall be no chiding. Not in these 
Noises," and the saying strikes the note of calm sublimity 
which is kept in Paradise Lost. 

As we read the great epic, we feel that the lightness of 
heart of the Allegro, that even the quiet classic philosophy 
of the Comus, are gone. The beauty of the poem is like 
that of a stately temple, which, vast in conception, is 
involved in detail. The style is the greatest in the whole 
range of English poetry. Milton's intellectual force sup- 
ports and condenses his imaginative force, and his art is 
almost too conscious of itself. Sublimity is its essential 
difference. The subject is one phase of the great and uni- 
versal subject of high poetic thought and passion, that 
struggle of Light with Darkness, of Evil with Good, which, 
arising in a hundred myths, keeps its undying attraction 
to the present day. But its great difficulty in his case 
was that he was obliged to interest us, for a great part of 
the poem, in two persons, who, being innocent, were with- 
out any such play of human passion and trouble as we find 
in GEdipus, ^Eneas, Hamlet, or Alceste. In the noble art 
with which this is done Milton is supreme. The interest 
of the story collects at first round the character of Satan, 
but he grows meaner as the poem develops, and his second 
degradation after he has destroyed innocence is one of the 
finest and most consistent motives in the poem. This at 
once disposes of the view that Milton meant Satan to be 
the hero of the epic. His hero is Man. The deep tender- 
ness of Milton, his love of beauty, the passionate fitness of 
his words to his work, his religious depth, fill the scenes 
in which he paints Paradise, our parents and their fall, and 
at last all thought and emotion center round Adam and Eve, 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

until the closing lines leave us with their lonely image on 
our minds. In every part of the poem, in every character 
in it, as indeed in all his poems, Milton's intense individu- 
ality appears. It is a pleasure to find it. The egotism of 
such a man, said Coleridge, is a revelation of spirit. 
f Paradise Lost was followed by Paradise Regained and 
Samson Agonistes, published together in 167 1. Paradise 
Regained opens with the journey of Christ into the wilder- 
ness after his baptism, and its four books describe the 
temptation of Christ by Satan, and the answers and vic- 
tory of the Redeemer. The speeches in it overwhelm the 
action, and their learned argument is only relieved by a few 
descriptions ; but these, as in that of Athens, are done 
with Milton's highest power. Its solemn beauty of quietude, 
and a more severe style than that of Paradise Lost, make 
us feel in it that Milton has grown older. 

In Samson Agonistes the style is still severer, even to 
the verge of a harshness which the sublimity alone tends 
to modify. It is a choral drama, after the Greek model. 
Samson in his blindness is described, is called on to make 
sport for the Philistines, and overthrows them in the end. 
Samson represents the fallen Puritan cause, and Samson's 
victorious death Milton's hopes for the final triumph of 
that cause. The poem has all the grandeur of the last 
words of a great man in whom there was now " calm of 
mind, all passion spent." It is also the last word of the 
music of the Elizabethan drama long after its notes seemed 
hushed, and its deep sound is strange in the midst of 
the shallow noise of the Restoration. Soon afterwards, 
November, 1674, blind and old and fallen on evil days, 
Milton died ; but neither blindness, old age, nor evil days 
could^-lessen the inward light, nor impair the imaginative 
power with which he sang, it seemed with the angels, the 



INTRODUCTION. xvii 

"undisturbed song of pure concent," until he joined him- 
self, at last, with those "just spirits who wear victorious 
palms." 

To the greatness of the artist Milton joined the majesty 
of a clear and lofty character. His poetic style was as 
stately as his character, and proceeded from it. Living at 
a time when criticism began to purify the verse of England, 
and being himself well acquainted with the great classical 
models, his work is seldom weakened by the false conceits 
and the intemperance of the Elizabethan writers, and yet is 
as imaginative as theirs, and as various. He has not their 
naturalness, nor all their intensity, but he has a larger 
grace, a lovelier colour, a closer eye for nature, a more 
finished art, and a sublime dignity they did not possess. 
All the kinds of poetry which he touched he touched with 
the ease of great strength, and with so much energy, that 
they became new in his hands. He put a fresh life into 
the masque, the sonnet, the elegy, the descriptive lyric, 
the song, the choral drama; and he created the epic in 
England. The lighter love poem he never wrote, and we 
are grateful that he kept his coarse satirical power apart 
from his poetry. In some points he was untrue to his 
descent from the Elizabethans, for he had no dramatic 
faculty, and he had no humour. He summed up in himself 
the learned and artistic influences of the English Renais- 
sance, and handed them on to us. His taste was as severe, 
his verse as polished, his method and language as strict 
as those of the school of Dryden and Pope that grew 
up when he was old. A literary past and present thus met 
in him, nor did he fail, like all the greatest men, to make a 
cast into the future. He established the poetry of pure 
natural description. Lastly, he did not represent in any 
way the England that followed the Stuarts, but he did rep- 



xviii INTRODUCTION. 

resent Puritan England, and the whole spirit of Puritanism 
from its cradle to its grave. 

[Pattison, Milton, pp. 19, 24-29.] 

The fame of the author of Paradise Lost has over-shad- 
owed that of the author of L' Allegro, II Penseroso, and 
Lycidas. Yet had Paradise Lost never been written, these 
three poems, with Comics, would have sufficed to place their 
author in a class apart, and above all those who had used 
the English language for poetical purposes before him. . . . 

TV Tr -7V- TV Tr 

... a naturalist is at once aware that Milton had neither 
the eye nor the ear of a naturalist. At no time, even before 
his loss of sight, was he an exact observer of natural 
objects. It may be that he knew a skylark from a red- 
breast, and did not confound the dog-rose with the honey- 
suckle. But I am sure that he had never acquired that 
interest in nature's things and ways which leads to close 
and loving watching of them. He had not that sense of 
out-door nature, empirical and not scientific, which endows 
the Angler of his cotemporary Walton with his enduring 
charm, and which is to be acquired only by living in the 
open country in childhood. Milton is not a man of the 
fields, but of books. His life is in his study, and when 
he steps abroad into the air he carries his study thoughts 
with him. He does look at nature, but he sees her through 
books. Natural impressions are received from without, 
but always in those forms of beautiful speech in which the 
poets of all ages have clothed them. His epithets are not, 
like the epithets of the school of Dryden and Pope, culled 
from the Gradus ad Parnassum ; they are expressive of 
some reality, but it is of a real emotion in the spectator's 



INTR OD UC TION. xix 

soul, not of any quality detected by keen insight in the 
objects themselves. This emotion Milton's art stamps 
with an epithet which shall convey the added charm of 
classical reminiscence. When, e.g., he speaks of " the 
wand'ring moon," the original significance of the epithet 
comes home to the scholarly reader with the enhanced 
effect of its association with the "errantem lunam " of 
Horace. Nor because it is adopted from Horace has the 
epithet here the second-hand effect of a copy. If Milton 
sees nature through books, he still sees it. 

" To behold the wand'ring moon, 
Riding near her highest noon, 
Like one that had been led astray, 
Through the heaven's wide pathless way, 
And oft, as if her head she bow'd, 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud." 

No allegation that " wand'ring moon " is borrowed from 
Horace can hide from us that Milton, though he remem- 
bered Horace, had watched the phenomenon with a feeling 
so intense that he projected his own soul's throb into the 
object before him, and named it with what Thomson calls 
"recollected love." 

Milton's attitude toward nature is not that of a scientific 
naturalist, nor even that of a close observer. It is that of 
a poet who feels its total influence too powerfully to dissect 
it. If, as I have said, Milton reads books first and nature 
afterwards, it is not to test nature by his books, but to 
learn from both. He is learning, not books, but from 
books. All he reads, sees, hears, is to him but nutriment 
for the soul. He is making himself. Man is to him the 
highest object ; nature is subordinate to man, not only in 
its more vulgar uses, but as an excitant of fine emotion. 



xx INTRODUCTION. 

He is not concerned to register the facts and phenomena 
of nature, but to convey the impression they make on a 
sensitive soul. The external forms of things are to be pre- 
sented to us as transformed through the heart and mind of 
the poet. The moon is endowed with life and will, " stoop- 
ing," "riding," "wand'ring," "bowing her head," not as a 
frigid personification, and because the ancient poets so per- 
sonified her, but by communication to her of the intense 
agitation which the nocturnal spectacle rouses in the poet's 

, own breast. 

I # * * * * 

In Milton, nature is not put forward as the poet's theme. 
His theme is man, in the two contrasted moods of joyous 
emotion or grave reflection. The shifting scenery ministers 
to the varying mood. Thomson, in the Seasons (1726), sets 
himself to render natural phenomena as they truly are. 
He has left us a vivid presentation in gorgeous language 
of the naturalistic calendar of the changing year. Milton, 
in these two idylls, has recorded a day of twenty-four hours. 
But he has not registered the phenomena ; he places us at 
the standpoint of the man before whom they deploy. And 
the man, joyous or melancholy, is not a bare spectator of 
them ; he is the student, compounded of sensibility and 
intelligence, of whom we are not told that he saw so and 
so, or that he felt so, but with whom we are made copart- 
ners of his thoughts and feeling. Description melts into 
emotion, and contemplation bodies itself in imagery. All 
the charm of rural life is there, but it is not tendered to us 
in the form - of a landscape ; the scenery is subordinated 
to the human figure in the center. 

These two short idylls are marked by a gladsome spon- 
taneity which never came to Milton again. The delicate 
fancy and feeling which play about V Allegro and 77 



INTRODUCTION. xxi 

Penseroso never reappear, and form a strong contrast to 
the austere imaginings of his later poetical period. These 
two poems have the freedom and frolic, the natural grace 
of movement, the improvisation, of the best Elizabethan 
examples, while both thoughts and words are under a 
strict economy unknown to the diffuse exuberance of the 
Spenserians. 

In Lycidas (1637) we have reached the high-water mark 
of English poesy and of Milton's own production. A period 
of a century and a half was to elapse before poetry in Eng- 
land seemed, in Wordsworth's Ode on Immortality (1807), 
to be rising again toward the level of inspiration which it 
had once attained in Lycidas. And in the development 
of the Miltonic genius this wonderful dirge marks the cul- 
minating point. As the twin idylls of 1632 show a great 
advance upon the Ode on the Nativity (1629), the growth 
of the poetic mind during the five years which follow 1632 
is registered in Lycidas. Like the L 1 Allegro and LI Pen- 
jseroso, Lycidas is laid out on the lines of the accepted 
pastoral fiction ; like them it offers exquisite touches of 
idealised rural life. But Lycidas opens up a deeper vein 
of feeling, a patriot passion so vehement and dangerous 
that, like that which stirred the Hebrew prophet, it is 
compelled to veil itself from power, or from sympathy, in 
utterance made purposely enigmatical. The passage which 
begins " Last came and last did go " raises in us a thrill of 
awe-struck expectation which I can only compare with that 
excited by the Cassandra of yEschylus's Agamemnon. For 
the reader to feel this, he must have present in memory the 
circumstances of England in 1637. He must place him- 
self as far as possible in the situation of a cotemporary. 
The study of Milton's poetry compels the study of his 
time; and Professor Masson's six volumes are not too 



xxil INTR OD UC TION. 

much to enable us to understand that there were real 
causes for the intense passion which glows underneath 
the poet's words — a passion which unexplained would be 
thought to be intrusive. 

The historical exposition must be gathered from the 
English history of the period, which may be read in Pro- 
fessor Masson's excellent summary. All I desire to point 
out here is, that in Lyadas Milton's original picturesque 
vein is for the first time crossed with one of quite another 
sort, stern, determined, obscurely indicative of suppressed 
passion, and the resolution to do or die. The fanaticism 
of the covenanter and the sad grace of Petrarch seem to 
meet in Milton's monody. Yet these opposites, instead of 
neutralising each other, are blended into one harmonious 
whole by the presiding, but invisible, genius of the poet. 
The conflict between the old cavalier world — the years of 
gaiety and festivity of a splendid and pleasure-loving court, 
and the new Puritan world into which love and pleasure 
were not to enter — this conflict which was commencing 
in the social life of England, is also begun in Milton's own 
breast, and is reflected in Lycidas. 

" For we were nurs'd upon the self-same hill." 

Here is the sweet mournfulness of the Spenserian time, upon 
whose joys Death is the only intruder. Pass onward a 
little, and you are in presence of the tremendous 

" Two-handed engine at the door," 

the terror of which is enhanced by its obscurity. We are 
very sure that the avenger is there, though we know not 
who he is. In these thirty lines we have the preluding 
mutterings of the storm which was to sweep away mask 
and revel and song, to inhibit the drama, and suppress 



INTRODUCTION. xxiii 

poetry. In the earlier poems Milton's muse has sung in 
the tones of the age that is passing away ; except in his 
austere chastity, a cavalier. Though even in f Allegro Dr. 
Johnson truly detects " some melancholy in his mirth.*' In 
Lycidas, for a moment, the tones of both ages, the past and 
the coming, are combined, and then Milton leaves behind 
him forever the golden age, and one half of his poetic 
genius. He never fulfilled the promise with which Lycidas 
concludes, "To-morrow to fresh fields and pastures new." 



[Garnett, Life of Milton, pp. 49-54.] 

The " Penseroso " and the "Allegro," notwithstanding 
that each piece is the antithesis of the other, are comple- 
mentary rather than contrary, and may be, in a sense, 
regarded as one poem, whose theme is the praise of the 
reasonable life. It resembles one of those pictures in 
which the effect is gained by contrasted masses of light 
and shade, but each is more nicely mellowed and inter- 
fused with the qualities of the other than it lies within the 
resources of pictorial skill to effect. Mirth has an under- 
tone of gravity, and melancholy of cheerfulness. There is 
no antagonism between the states of mind depicted ; and 
no rational lover, whether of contemplation or of recrea- 
tion, would find any difficulty in combining the two. The 
limpidity of the diction is even more striking than its 
beauty. Never were ideas of such dignity embodied in 
verse so easy and familiar, and with such apparent absence 
of effort. The landscape-painting is that of the seven- 
teenth century, absolutely true in broad effects, sometimes 
ill-defined and even inaccurate in minute details. Some of 
these blemishes are terrible in nineteenth-century eyes, 
accustomed to the photography of our Brownings and 



xxiv INTRODUCTION. 

Patmores. Milton would probably have made light of 
them, and perhaps we owe him some thanks for thus prac- 
tically refuting the heresy that inspiration implies infalli- 
bility. Yet the poetry of his blindness abounds with proof 
that he had made excellent use of his eyes while he had 
them, and no part of his poetry wants instances of subtle 
and delicate observation worthy of the most scrutinizing 

modern : — 

" Thee, chantress, oft the woods among, 
I woo, to hear thy evensong ; 
And, missing thee, I walk unseen 
On the dry, smooth-shaven green." 

"The song of the nightingale," remarks Peacock, " ceases 
about the time the grass is mown." The charm, however, 
is less in such detached beauties, however exquisite, than 
in the condensed opulence — " every epithet a text for a 
canto," says Macaulay — and in the general impression of 
"plain living and high thinking," pursued in the midst of 
every charm of nature and every refinement of culture, com- 
bining the ideal of Horton with the ideal of Cambridge. 

" Lycidas " is far more boldly conventional, not merely 
in the treatment of landscape, but in the general concep- 
tion and machinery. An initial effort of the imagination 
is required to feel with the poet ; it is not wonderful that 
no such wing bore up the solid Johnson. Talk of Milton 
and his fellow-collegian as shepherds! "We know that 
they never drove afield, and that they had no flocks to 
batten." There is, in fact, according to Johnson, neither 
nature nor truth nor art nor pathos in the poem, for all 
these things are inconsistent with the introduction of a 
shepherd of souls in the character of a shepherd of sheep. 
A nineteenth-century reader, it may be hoped, finds no 
mere difficulty in idealizing Edward King as a shepherd 



INTRODUCTION. xxv 

than in personifying the ocean calm as "sleek Panope and 
all her sisters," which, to be sure, may have been a trouble 
to Johnson. If, however, Johnson is deplorably prosaic, 
neither can we agree with Pattison that " in ' Lycidas ' we 
have reached the high-water mark of English Poesy and of 
Milton's own production." Its innumerable beauties are 
rather exquisite than magnificent. It is an elegy, and can- 
not, therefore, rank as high as an equally consummate 
example of epic, lyric, or dramatic art. Even as elegy 
it is surpassed by the other great English masterpiece, 
"Adonais," in fire and grandeur. There is no incongruity 
in "Adonais" like the introduction of the "pilot of the 
Galilean lake"; its invective and indignation pour natu- 
rally out of the subject ; their expression is not, as in 
"Lycidas," a splendid excrescence. There is no such 
example of sustained eloquence in " Lycidas " as the seven 
concluding stanzas of "Adonais" beginning, "Go thou to 
Rome." But the balance is redressed by the fact that the 
beauties of "Adonais " are mostly of the imitable sort, and 
those of "Lycidas " of the inimitable. Shelley's eloquence 
is even too splendid for elegy. It wants the dainty thrills 
and tremors of subtle versification, and the witcheries of 
verbal magic in which "Lycidas" is so rich — "the open- 
ing eyelids of the morn ; " " smooth-sliding Mincius, 
crowned with vocal reeds ; " Camus's garment, " inwrought 
with figures dim ; " " the great vision of the guarded 
mount ; " " the tender stops of various quills ; " " with 
eager thought warbling his Doric lay." It will be noticed 
that these exquisite phrases have little to do with Lycidas 
himself, and it is a fact not to be ignored, that though 
Milton and Shelley doubtless felt more deeply than Dryden 
when he composed his scarcely inferior threnody on Anne 
Killegrew, whom he had never seen, both might have found 



xxvi INTRODUCTION. 

subjects of grief that touched them more nearly. Shelley 
tells us frankly that "in another's woe he wept his own." 
We cannot doubt of whom Milton was thinking when he 
wrote \_Lycidas, 70-84]. . . . 

" Comus," the richest fruit of Milton's early genius, is 
the epitome of the man at the age at which he wrote it. 
It bespeaks the scholar and idealist, whose sacred enthusi- 
asm is in some danger of contracting a taint of pedantry 
for want of acquaintance with men and affairs. The Elder 
Brother is a prig, and his dialogues with his junior reveal 
the same solemn insensibility to the humorous which char- 
acterizes the kindred genius of Wordsworth, and would 
have provoked the kindly smile of Shakespeare. It is 
singular to find the inevitable flaw of " Paradise Lost " 
prefigured here, and the wicked enchanter made the real 
hero of the piece. These defects are interesting, because 
they represent the nature of Milton as it was then, noble 
and disinterested to the height of imagination, but self- 
assertive, unmellowed, angular. They disappear entirely 
when he expatiates in the regions of exalted fancy, as in 
the introductory discourse of the Spirit, and the invoca- 
tion to Sabrina. They recur when he moralizes ; and his 
morality is too interwoven with the texture of his piece to 
be other than obtrusive. He fatigues with virtue, as Lucan' 
fatigues with liberty ; in both instances the scarcely avoid- 
able error of a young preacher. What glorious morality it 
is no one need be told ; nor is there any poem in the 
language where beauties of thought, diction, and descrip- 
tion spring up more thickly than in "Comus." No drama 
out of Shakespeare has furnished such a number of the 
noblest familiar quotations. It is, indeed, true that many 
of these jewels are fetched from the mines of other poets : 
great as Milton's obligations to Nature were, his obligations 



INTRODUCTION. xxvil 

to books were greater. But he has made all his own 
by the alchemy of his genius, and borrows little but to 
improve. . . . 

[Brooke, Milton, pp. 18-19, 22-24, 26-27.] 

The Allegro and Penseroso, the resemblances to which in 
previous writers, as in Burton, and Beaumont and Fletcher, 
only prove that Milton had read English literature, and 
could better what he borrowed if he borrowed it — repre- 
sent Nature, and Man, and Art as they appear to a man 
filled with an imaginative joy and an imaginative sadness. 
The Allegro, which begins with the early morning and ends 
at night, is paralleled thought by thought, scene by scene, 
with the Penseroso, which begins with the late evening and 
ends towards the noon of the next day. But the Penseroso 
closes with the wish — which, not paralleled in the Allegro, 
makes us know that Milton preferred the pensive to the 
mirthful temper — That he may live on into old age, the 
contemplative life, 

" Till old experience do attain, 
To something like prophetic strain." 

Both poems are ushered in with a stately introduction, 
and change to a quicker and lighter measure, of which the 
scheme appears to be trochaic, though iambics are often 
introduced and especially in the Penseroso. The greatest 
pains is bestowed upon the rhythm. There is nothing 
hazarded, nothing careless, yet the poems move, it seems, 
with careless grace. They are a landmark in the metrical 
art of poetry, and they are conscious of their art through- 
out. 

The words are arranged and chosen to imitate or suggest 
the thing described : alliteration is used to heighten the 



xxviii INTRODUCTION. 

effect, but much more sparingly than by the earlier men, 
( such as his "original," Spenser. 1 Throughout the Allegro 
the verse frequently rushes as if borne along by very joy ; 
its character is swiftness and smoothness. Few if any 
pauses occur in the midst of the lines. Throughout the 
Penseroso the verse frequently pauses in the midst of the 
lines. It rests, like a pensive man who, walking, stops to 
think, and its movement is slow, even stately. 

Both poems are full of natural description. But it is 
neither the description which imposes one's own feeling on 
nature, nor the moralising description of Gray, nor does 
it even resemble that description which in Shelley and 
Wordsworth was built on the thought that Nature was alive 
and man's companion. It is the pure description of things 
seen, seen not necessarily through the poet's own mood, 
but always in direct relation to Man and to the special 
mood of man's mind which Milton has chosen as the ground- 
work for each poem. 

The allusiveness of the poems — and extreme allusiveness 
is a characteristic mark, and often a fault, of the poetry of 
Milton — pleases by the claim it makes on study. The 
extreme simplicity of the two motives — and Milton, how- 
ever his poems are involved, has always a simple motive — 
makes these poems simple, and this is one reason why 
children as well as others understand and have pleasure in 
them. The picturesqueness of the scenes, the clearcut 
and vivid outline of the things described — and this also is 
a constant excellence of Milton, though he sometimes wil- 
fully spoils it by digression, — is also a source of delight to 
young and old : while the work of the higher imagination 
is felt as a shaping power in the poems, as the Orphean 

1 " Milton has acknowledged to me," says Dryden, " that Spenser 
was his original." — Brooke. 



INTRO DUCT/0 A'. xxix 

music which has harmonized and built them into that unity 
which is the highest and last demand of Art. 



... It [Comus] settled Milton's rank as a poet among 
all men capable of judging. Sir Henry Wotton's voice 
was, we may be sure, the voice of all men of culture : — "A 
dainty piece of entertainment, wherein I should much com- 
mend the tragical part if the lyrical did not ravish me 
with a certain Doric delicacy in your songs and odes, 
whereunto I must plainly confess to have seen yet nothing 
parallel in our language." The phrase Doric delicacy is 
not ill-said ; but it is not in the lyrics, which are excelled 
by many of the Elizabethan lyrics, but in the full-weighted 
dignity of the blank verse that the poem was then un- 
paralleled. Moreover it was marked by a greater gran- 
deur of style and thought, by a graver beauty, and by a 
more exercised and self-conscious art than any poem of 
its character which England had as yet known. It be- 
longed to the Elizabethan spirit, but it went beyond it 
and made a new departure for English poetry. The way 
it showed could not be walked in by the men of the 
Restoration and the Revolution. It was before its time ; 
but that is at once the good and the evil fortune of a great 
genius. 

Johnson's sturdy criticism on it has much force and is 
admirably written ; but in condemning it as a drama, he is 
carried beyond good sense to lose sight of its beauty as a 
poem. Moreover his arrows do not hit the target. Comus 
is not a regular drama, but a masque, and a masque obeys 
laws distinct from those of the regular drama. The masque 
depends for success not only on the poetry, which here is 
splendid, but also and chiefly on its occasion, and away 



XXX INTR OD UC TION. 

from the occasion its dramatic fitness cannot be judged. 
It depends also on the decoration and music, and these are 
so knit to the occasion that, even when they are reproduced, 
they have not the same value as at the time they were 
first made. No one can judge how far Comns contradicts 
Johnson's judgment of its want of interest as a dramatic 
representation, unless he can recreate in his mind not only 
the scene, and the "occasion," and all its interests, but 
also all the feelings of the spectators, and the thought of 
the story in their minds to which the masque spoke ; and 
this was work of which Johnson at least seems incapable. 
Comus was written for such an occasion, and only in the 
atmosphere of the moment can its dramatic merits be 
judged. 

Still that Comus soars beyond the occasion is plain 
enough. It displaced itself as a masque to rise into a poem 
to the glory and victory of virtue. And its virtue lies in 
the mastery of the righteous will over sense and appetite. 
It is a song to Temperance as the ground of freedom, to 
temperance as the guard of all the virtues, to beauty as 
secured by temperance, and its central point and climax is 
in the pleading of these motives by the Lady against their 
opposites in the mouth of the Lord of sensual Revel. 

It is moreover raised above an ethical poem by its 
imaginative form and power ; and its literary worth enables 
us to consider it, if we choose, apart from its dramatic 
form. Its imagination, however, sinks at times, and one 
can scarcely explain this otherwise than by saying that the 
Elizabethan habit of fantastic metaphor clung to Milton 
at this time. When he does fall, the fall is made more 
remarkable by the soaring strength of his loftier flight and 
by the majesty of the verse. Nothing can be worse in 
conception than the comparison of night to a thief who 



INTRODUCTION. xxxi 

shuts up, for the sake of his felony, the stars whose lamps 
burn everlasting oil, in his dark lantern. The better it is 
carried out and the finer the verse, the worse it is. And 
yet it is instantly followed by the great passage about the 
fears of night, the fantasies and airy tongues that syllable 
men's names, and by the glorious appeal to conscience, 
faith, and God, followed in its turn by the fantastic conceit 
of the cloud that turns out its silver lining on the night. 
This is Elizabethan weakness and strength, the mixture 
of gold and clay, the want of that art-sensitiveness which 
feels the absurd : and Milton, even in Paradise Lost, when 
he had got further from his originals, falls into it not 
unfrequently. It is a fault which runs through a good deal 
of his earlier work, it is more seen in Comns than elsewhere ; 
but it was the fault of that poetic age. 



f It \_Lycidas~\ is pastoral, and in the form of other 
'pastorals ; with its introduction and its epilogue, and 
between them the monody of the shepherd who has lost 
his friend. Under the guise of one shepherd mourning 
another, all Milton's relations with Edward King are 
expressed, and all his thoughts about his character and 
genius ; and the poem, to be justly judged, must be read 
with the conditions of the pastoral as a form of verse pres- 
ent to the mind. That is enough to dispose of Johnson's 
unfavourable criticism, which quarrels with the poem for 
its want of passion and want of nature, and for its improb- 
ability. It is not a poem of passionate sorrow, but of admi- 
ration and regret expressed with careful art and in a special 
artistic form ; and the classical allusions and shepherd 
images and the rest are the necessary drapery of the 
pastoral, the art of which, and the due keeping to form in 



xxxil 1NTR OD UC TION. 

which, are as important to Milton, and perhaps more so, 
than his regret. We are made aware of this when we find 
Milton twice checking himself in the conduct of the poem 
for having gone beyond the limits of the pastoral. 

The metrical structure, which is partly borrowed from 
Italian models, is as carefully wrought as the rest, and 
harmonized to the thoughts. " Milton's ear was a good 
second to his imagination." Lycidas appeals not only to 
the imagination, but to the educated imagination. There 
is no ebb and flow of poetical power as in Comus ; it is an 
advance on all his previous work, and it fitly closes the 
poetic labour of his youth. It is needless to analyse it, 
and all criticism is weaker than the poem itself. Yet we 
may say that one of its strange charms is its solemn under- 
tone rising like a religious chaunt through the elegiac 
musick ; the sense of a stern national crisis in the midst 
of its pastoral mourning ; the sense of Milton's grave force 
of character among the flowers and fancies of the poem ; 
the sense of the Christian religion pervading the classical 
imagery. We" might say that these things are ill-fitted to 
each other. So they would be, were not the art so fine and 
the poetry so over-mastering ; were they not fused together 
by genius into a whole so that the unfitness itself becomes 
fascination. 1 

[Saintsbury, Elizabethan Literature, pp. 319-322.] 

This body of work, then, is marked by two qualities : 
an extraordinary degree of poetic merit, and a still more 
extraordinary originality of poetic kind. Although Milton 
is always Milton, it would be difficult to find in another 

1 See also pp. 27-29, where Brooke gives his observations on the 
political and social aspects of Milton's early poetry. 



INTRODUCTION. xxxiii 

writer five poems, or (taking the Allegro and its companion 
together) four, so different from each other and yet of such 
high merit. And it would be still more difficult to find 
poems so independent in their excellence. Neither the 
influence of Johnson nor the influence of Donne — the 
two poetical influences in the air at the time, and the lat- 
ter especially strong at Cambridge — produced even the 
faintest effect on Milton. We know from his own words, 
and should have known even if he had not mentioned it, 
that Shakespere and Spenser were his favourite studies in 
English ; yet, save in mere scattered phrases, none of these 
poems owes anything to either. He has teachers but no 
models ; masters, but only in the way of learning how to do, 
not what to do. The " certain vital marks," of which he 
somewhat arrogantly speaks, are indeed there. ... As 
for L Allegro and // Penseroso, who shall praise them fitly ? 
[They are among the few things about which there is no 
(difference of opinion, which are as delightful to child- 
hood as to criticism, to youth as to age. To dwell on 
their technical excellences (the chief of whkm is the unerr- 
ing precision with which the catalectic and acatalectic 
lines are arranged and interchanged) has a certain air of 
impertinence about it. Even a critical King Alfonso El 
Sabio could hardly think it possible that Milton might 
have taken a hint here, although some persons have, it 
seems, been disturbed because skylarks do not come to 
the window, just as others are troubled because the flowers 
in Lycidas do not grow at the same time, and because they 
think they could see stars through the "starproof" trees 
of Arcades. 

. . . But it is in Comus that, if I have any skill of criti- 
cism, Milton's poetical power is at its greatest height. 
Those who judge poetry on the ground of bulk, or of origi- 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION. 

nality of theme, or of anything else extra-poetical, — much 
more those (the greater number) who simply vary trans- 
mitted ideas, — may be scandalized at this assertion, but 
that will hardly matter much. And indeed the indebtedness 
of Comus in point of subject (it is probably limited to the 
Odyssey, which is public property, and to George Peele's 
Old Wives' Tale, which gave little but a few hints of story) 
is scarcely greater than that of Paradise Lost ; while the 
form of the drama, a kind nearly as venerable and majestic 
as that of the epic, is completely filled. And in Comus 
there is none of the stiffness, none of the longueurs, none 
of the almost ludicrous want of humour, which mar the 
larger poem. Humour indeed was what Milton always 
lacked ; had he had it, Shakespere himself might hardly 
have been greater. The plan is not really more artificial 
than that of the epic ; though in the latter case it is masked 
to us by the scale, by the grandeur of the personages, and 
by the familiarity of the images to all men who have been 
brought up on the Bible. The versification, as even Johnson 
saw, is the versification of Paradise Lost, and to my fancy 
at any rate it has a spring, a variety, a sweep and rush 
of genius, which are but rarely present later. As for its 
beauty in parts, quis vituperavit ? It is impossible to 
single out passages, for the whole is golden. The enter- 
ing address of Comus, the song "Sweet Echo," the descrip- 
tive speech of the Spirit, and the magnificent eulogy of the 
" sun-clad power of chastity," would be the most beautiful 
things where all is beautiful, if the unapproachable " Sabrina 
fair " did not come later, and were not sustained before and 
after, for nearly two hundred lines of pure nectar. If 
poetry could be taught by the reading of it, then indeed 
the critic's advice to a poet might be limited to this : 
"Give your days and nights to the reading of Comus." 



INTRODUCTION. xxxv 

[William Hazlitt, Lectures on the English Poets, Appendix, p. 201 etseqX\ 

Of all Milton's smaller poems, Lycidas is the greatest 
favourite with me. I cannot agree to the charge which 
Dr. Johnson has brought against it of pedantry and want 
of feeling. It is the fine emanation of classical sentiment 
in a youthful scholar — 'most musical, most melancholy.' 
A certain tender gloom overspreads it, a wayward abstrac- 
tion, a forgetfulness of his subject in the serious reflections 
that arise out of it. The gusts of passion come and go like 
the sounds of music borne on the wind. The loss of the 
friend whose death he laments seems to have recalled, with 
double force, the reality of those speculations which they 
had indulged together ; we are transported to classic ground, 
and a mysterious strain steals responsive on the ear, while 
we listen to the poet, 

' With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.' 

I shall proceed to give a few passages at length in support 
of my opinion. The first I shall quote is as remarkable 
for the truth and sweetness of the natural descriptions as 
for the characteristic elegance of the allusions. [Lines 
25-49 quoted.] 

After the fine apostrophe on Fame which Phoebus is in- 
volved to utter, the poet proceeds: [Lines 85-99 quoted.] 
If this is art, it is perfect art ; nor do we wish for 
anything better. The measure of the verse, the very 
sound of the names, would almost produce the effect here 
described. To ask the poet not to make use of such 
allusions as these is to ask the painter not to dip in the 
colours of the rainbow, if he could. — In fact, it is the com- 
mon cant of criticism to consider every allusion to the clas- 
1 New York, 1845. Wiley and Putnam. 



xxxvi INTRODUCTION. 

sics, and particularly in a mind like Milton's, as pedantry 
and affectation. Habit is a second nature ; and, in this 
sense, the pedantry (if it is to be so called) of the scholastic 
enthusiast, who is constantly referring to images of which 
his mind is full, is as graceful as it is natural. It is not 
affectation in him to recur to ideas and modes of expres- 
sion with which he has the strongest associations, and in 
which he takes the greatest delight. Milton was as conver- 
sant with the world of genius before him as with the world 
of nature about him ; the fables of the ancient mythology 
were as familiar to him as his dreams. To be a pedant is 
to see neither the beauties of nature nor of art. Milton saw 
both ; and he made use of the one only to adorn and give 
interest to the other. He was a passionate admirer of 
nature ; and, in a single couplet of his, describing the 

moon, — 

' Like one that had been led astray 
Through the heaven's wide pathless way,' — 

there is more intense observation, and intense feeling of 
nature (as if he had gazed himself blind in looking at 
her,) than in twenty volumes of descriptive poetry. But 
he added in his own observation of nature the splendid 
fictions of ancient genius, enshrined her in the mysteries 
of ancient religion, and celebrated her with the pomp of 
ancient names. 1 

[Dowden, Transcripts and Studies, pp. 460-465, 473-] 

. . . Milton, as an artist, works in the manner of an 
idealist. His starting-point is ordinarily an abstraction. 
Whereas with Bunyan abstract virtues and vices are per- 

1 Hazlitt continues with a rather fanciful defense of Milton's com- 
bination of heathen and Christian elements. 



INTRODUCTION. xxxvii 

petually tending to become real persons, with Milton each 
real person tends to become the representative of an idea 
or a group, more or less complex, of ideas. . . . 

Comus is the work of a youthful spirit, enamoured of 
its ideals of beauty and of virtue, zealous to exhibit the 
identity of moral loveliness with moral severity. The real 
incident from which the mask is said to have originated 
disengages itself, in the imagination of Milton, from the 
world of actual occurrences, and becomes an occasion for 
the dramatic display of his own poetical abstractions. 
The young English gentlemen cast off their identity and 
individuality, and appear in the elementary shapes of 
"First Brother" and "Second Brother." The Lady Alice 
rises into an ideal impersonation of virgin strength and 
virtue. The scene is earth, a wild wood ; but earth, as in 
all the poems of Milton, with the heavens arching over it — 
a dim spot, in which men " strive to keep up a frail and 
feverish being " set below the " starry threshold of Jove's 
Court," 

" Where those immortal shapes 
Of bright aerial spirits live inspher'd 
In regions mild of calm and serene air." 

From its first scene to the last the drama is a represen- 
tation of the trials, difficulties, and dangers to which moral 
purity is exposed in this world, and of the victory of the 
better principle in the soul, gained by strenuous human 
endeavour aided by the grace of God. In this spiritual 
warfare the powers of good and evil are arrayed against 
one another ; upon this side the Lady, her brothers (types 
of human helpfulness weak in itself, and liable to go astray), 
and the supernatural powers auxiliar to virtue in heaven and 
in earth — the Attendant Spirit and the nymph Sabrina. 



xxxviii INTRODUCTION. 

The enchanter Comus is son of Bacchus and Circe, and 
inheritor of twofold vice. If Milton had pictured the life 
of innocent mirth in U Allegro, here was a picture to set 
beside the other, a vision of the genius of sensual indul- 
gence. Yet Comus is inwardly, not outwardly foul ; no grim 
monster like that which the medieval imagination conjured 
up to terrify the spirit and disgust the senses. The attempt 
of sin upon the soul as conceived by Milton is not the 
open and violent obsession of a brute power, but involves a 
cheat, an imposture. The soul is put upon its trial through 
the seduction of the senses and the lower parts of our 
nature. Flattering lies entice the ears of Eve; Christ is 
tried by false visions of power and glory, and beneficent 
rule ; Samson is defrauded of his strength by deceitful 
blandishment. And in like manner Comus must needs 
possess a beauty of his own, such beauty as ensnares the 
eye untrained in the severe school of moral perfection. 
Correggio sought him as a favourite model, but not Michael 
Angelo. He is sensitive to rich forms and sweet sounds, 
graceful in oratory, possessed, like Satan, of high intellect, 
but intellect in the service of the senses ; he surrounds 
himself with a world of art which lulls the soul into forget- 
fulness of its higher instincts and of duty; his palace is 
stately, and " set out with all manner of deliciousness." 

Over against this potent enchanter stands the original 
figure of the Lady, who is stronger than he. Young men, 
themselves conscious of high powers, and who are more 
truly acquainted with admiration than with love, find the 
presence of strength in woman invincibly attractive. 
Shakspere, in his earlier dramatic period, delighted to 
represent such characters as Rosalind, and Beatrice, and 
Portia ; characters at once stronger and weaker than his 
Imogens and Desdemonas, — stronger because more intel- 



INTRODUCTION. xxxix 

lectual, weaker because less harmoniously feminine. Shelley, 
who was never other than young, exhibited different types 
of heroic womanly nature, as conceived by him, in Cythna 
of The Revolt of Islam, and in Beatrice Cenci. Something 
of weakness belongs to the Lady of Milton's poem, because 
she is a woman, accustomed to the protection of others, 
tenderly nurtured, with a fair and gentle body ; but when 
the hour of trial comes she shows herself strong in powers 
of judgment and of reasoning, strong in her spiritual 
nature, in her tenacity of moral truth, in her indignation 
against sin. Although alone, and encompassed by evil and 
danger, she is fearless, and so clear-sighted that the juggling 
practice of her antagonist is wholly ineffectual against her. 
There is much in the Lady which resembles the youthful 
Milton himself — he, the Lady of his college — and we may 
well believe that the great debate concerning temperance 
was not altogether dramatic (where, indeed, is Milton truly 
dramatic ?), but was in part a record of passages in the 
poet's own spiritual history. Milton admired the Lady as 
he admired the ideal which he projected before him of 
himself. She is, indeed, too admirable to be an object of 
cherishing love. We could almost prolong her sufferings 
to draw a more complete enthusiasm from the sight of her 
heroic attitude. 

The Lady is unsubdued, and indeed unsubduable, because 
her will remains her own, a citadel without a breach ; but 
"her corporeal rind" is manacled, she is set in the 
enchanted chair and cannot leave it. . . . Meanwhile 
. . . the brothers wander in the wood. They are alike 
in being aimless and helpless ; if they are distinguished 
from each other, it is only as " First Brother " and "Second 
Brother," and by one of the simple devices common to ideal 
artists — first brother is a philosopher and full of hope 



xl INTRODUCTION. 

and faith ; second brother is more apprehensive, and less 
thoroughly grounded in ethics and metaphysics. The 
deliverance of their sister would be impossible but for 
supernatural interposition, the aid afforded by the Attendant 
Spirit from Jove's court. In other words, Divine Provi- 
dence is asserted.' Not without higher than human aid is 
the Lady rescued, and through the weakness of the mortal 
instruments of divine grace but half the intended work is 
accomplished. Comus escapes bearing his magic wand, to 
deceive other strayers in the wood, to work new enchant- 
ments, and swell his rout of ugly-headed followers. 

# # # * # 

... A line will recapitulate the substance of this essay. 
Milton works from the starting-point of an idea, and two 
such ideas brought into being what he accomplished as 
a man and as an artist. His prose works, the outcome 
of his life of public action, have for their ideal centre a 
conception of human liberty. His poetical works, the out- 
come of his inner life, his life of artistic contemplation, 
are various renderings of one dominant idea — that the 
struggle for mastery between good and evil is the prime 
fact of life ; and that a final victory of the righteous cause 
is assured by the existence of a divine order of the 
universe, which Milton knew by the name of " Providence." 

[J. C. Shairp, On Poetic Interpretation of Nature, pp. 186-190. 1 ] 

When we pass from the images of Nature that abound 
in Chaucer and in Shakespeare to those which Milton 

1 For a bibliography of Literature on the Nature-Sense, see Camillo 
Von Klenze's article in the Journal of Germanic Philology, vol. ii. 
pp. 239-265; also, The Critic, vol. xxviii. (new series) pp. 47, 118. On 
Milton's treatment of nature, see Mr. Squires's article in the Mod. Lang. 



INTR OD UC TION. xl i 

furnishes, the transition is much the same as when we 
pass from the scenery of Homer to that of Virgil. The 
contrast is that between natural free-flowing poetry, in 
which the beauty is child-like and unconscious, and highly 
cultured artistic poetry, which produces its effects through 
a medium of learned illustration, ornate coloring, and 
stately diction. In the one case Nature is seen directly 
and at first hand, with nothing between the poet and the 
object except the imaginative emotion under which he 
works. In the other, Nature is apprehended only in her 
'second intention,' as logicians speak, only as she appears 
through a beautiful haze, compounded of learning, associa- 
tions of the past, and carefully selected artistic colors. 
With Milton, Nature was not his first love, but held only 
a secondary place in his affections. He was in the first 
place a scholar, a man of letters, with the theologian and 
polemic latent in him. A lover of all artistic beauty he 
was, no doubt, and of Nature mainly as it lends itself to 
this perception. And as is his mode of apprehending 
Nature, such is the language in which he describes her. 
When he reached his full maturity he had framed for him- 
self out of the richness of his genius and the resources of 
his learning a style elaborate and splendid, so that he 
stands unique among English poets, ' our one first-rate 
master in the grand style.' As an eminent living French 
writer says, — * For rendering things he has the unique 
word, the word which is a discovery,' and ' he has not 
only the image and the word, he has the period also, the 
large musical phrase, somewhat laden with ornaments and 
intricate with inversions, but bearing all along with it in 

Notes, vol. ix. pp. 227-237, where Mr. Squires comes to the conclusion 
that Milton in the main looked at nature " through the spectacles of 
books." 



xlii INTR OD UC TION. 

its superb undulation. Above all, he has something inde- 
scribably serene and victorious, an unfailing level of style, 
power indomitable.' This admirable description of M. 
Scherer applies mainly to Milton's style, as it was fully 
elaborated in his great epic. And the thought has some- 
times occurred, whether this magnificently elaborated style 
can be a fit vehicle for rendering truly the simplicity, the 
refreshingness of Nature, — whether the poet's art, from its 
very opulence, must not color too much the clearness and 
transparency of the external world. However this may be, 
it is certain that it is not to his maturer poems, with their 
grandeur of style, that we look for his most vivid render- 
ings of scenery, but to those early poems, which had more 
native grace of diction and less of artistic elaboration. 
Nowhere has Milton shown such an eye for scenery as in 
those first poems, 'L'Allegro,' 'II Penseroso,' 'Lycidas,' 
and 'Comus,' composed before he was thirty, just after 
leaving Cambridge, while he was living under his father's 
roof at Horton, in Buckinghamshire. During the five 
years of country life, the most genial of all his years, amid 
his incessant study of the Greek and Latin poets, and other 
self-improvement, his heart was perhaps more open than 
at any other time to the moral beauty which lay around 
him. < Comus ' and < Lycidas ' both contain fine natural 
imagery, yet somewhat deflected by the artistic framework 
in which it is set. In the latter poem, in which Milton, 
adopting the idyllic form of Virgil, fills it with a mightier 
power, classical allusion and mythology are strangely, yet 
not unharmoniously, blended with pictures taken from 
English landscape. Every one remembers the splendid 
grouping of flowers which he there broiders in. Of this 
catalogue it has been observed that, beautiful as it is, it 
violates the truth of nature, as it places side by side flowers 



INTRODUCTION. xliii 

of different seasons which are never seen flowering together. 
It is in his two ' descriptive Lyrics ' that we find the clear- 
est proofs of an eye that had observed Nature at first hand 
and for itself. In the poem descriptive of mirth, it has 
been observed that the mirth is of a very sedate kind, not 
reaching beyond a 'trim and stately cheerfulness.' The 
mythological pedigrees attached both to mirth and to melan- 
choly strike us now as somewhat strange, if not frigid ; but, 
with this allowance, Milton's richly sensuous imagination 
bodies forth the cheerfulness, as he wished to portray it, 
in a succession of images unsurpassed for beauty. In the 
lines descriptive of these images, Art and Nature appear 
perhaps more than in any other of Milton's poems in perfect 
equipoise. The images selected are the aptest vehicles of 
the sentiment ; the language in which they are expressed 
is of the most graceful and musical ; while the natural 
objects themselves are seen at first hand, set down with 
their edges still sharp, and uncolored by any tinge of 
bookish allusion. Aspects of English scenery, one after 
another, occur, which he was the first poet to note, and 
which none since could dare to touch, so entirely has he 
made them his own. The mower whetting his scythe, — 
who ever hears that sound coming from the lawn in the 
morning without thinking of Milton ? ' The tanned hay- 
cock in the mead ; ' the cottage chimney smoking betwixt 
two aged oaks ; the moon 

' As if her head she bowed, 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud ; ' 

the shower pattering 

' On the ruffling leaves, 
With minute drops from off the eaves ; ' 



xl i v INTR OD UC TION. 

the great curfew-bell heard swinging ' over some wide 
watered shore ; ' — these are all images taken straight from 
English landscape which Milton has forever enshrined in 
his two matchless poems. 

Of these two poems, describing the bright and the 
thoughtful aspects of Nature, my friend Mr. Palgrave, 1 
in his exquisite collection of English Lyrics, ( The Golden 
Treasury,' has observed that these are the earliest pure 
descriptive lyrics in our language, adding that it is a strik- 
ing proof of Milton's astonishing power that these are still 
the best, in a style which so many great poets have since 
his time attempted. 

[Walter Bagehot, Litera?y Studies, vol. ii. pp. 201-204.] 

If from the man we turn to his works, we are struck 
at once with two singular contrasts. The first of them is 
this. The distinction between ancient and modern art is 
sometimes said, and perhaps truly, to consist in the simple 
bareness of the imaginative conceptions which we find in 
ancient art, and the comparative complex clothing in which 
all modern creations are embodied. If we adopt this dis- 
tinction, Milton seems in some sort ancient, and in some 

1 Mr. Palgrave's most recent criticism of these poems is to be found 
in his Landscape in Poetry, pp. 1 58-1 59. He there says that " V Allegro 
and 77 Penseroso, the earliest great lyrics of the landscape in our lan- 
guage, despite all later competition still remain supreme for range, 
variety, lucidity, and melodious charm within their style. And this 
style is essentially that of the Greek and the earlier English poets, but 
enlarged to the conception of whole scenes from Nature ; occasionally 
even panoramic. External images are set simply and impersonally 
before us, although selected and united in sentiment accordantly with 
the gay or the meditative mood of the supposed spectator." As to 
whether the poems may be called " pure descriptive lyrics," see Gummere, 
Handbook of Poetics, p. 48. 



INTRODUCTION. xlv 

sort modern. Nothing is so simple as the subject-matter of 
his works. The two greatest of his creations, the character 
of Satan and the character of Eve, are two of the simplest 
— the latter probably the very simplest — in the whole 
field of literature. On this side Milton's art is classical. 
On the other hand, in no writer is the imagery more pro- 
fuse, the illustrations more various, the dress altogether 
more splendid. And in this respect the style of his art 
seems romantic and modern. In real truth, however, it is 
only ancient art in a modern disguise. The dress is a 
mere dress, and can be stripped off when we will. We all 
of us do perhaps in memory strip it off ourselves. Not- 
withstanding the lavish adornments with which her image 
is presented, the character of Eve is still the simplest sort 
of feminine essence — the pure embodiment of that inner 
nature, which we believe and hope that women have. 
The character of Satan, though it is not so easily de- 
scribed, has nearly as few elements in it. The most purely 
modern conceptions will not bear to be unclothed in this 
matter. Their romantic garment clings inseparably to 
them. Hamlet and Lear are not to be thought of except 
as complex characters, with very involved and complicated 
embodiments. They are as difficult to draw out in words 
as the common characters of life are ; that of Hamlet, 
perhaps, is more so. If we make it, as perhaps we should, 
the characteristic of modern and romantic art that it pre- 
sents us with creations which we cannot think of or deline- 
ate except as very varied, and, so to say, circumstantial, we 
must not rank Milton among the masters of romantic art. 
And without involving the subject in the troubled sea of 
an old controversy, we may say that the most striking of 
the poetical peculiarities of Milton is the bare simplicity 
of his ideas, and the rich abundance of his illustrations. 



xlvi INTRODUCTION. 

Another of his peculiarities is equally striking. There 
seems to be such a thing as second-hand poetry. Some 
poets, musing on the poetry of other men, have uncon- 
sciously shaped it into something of their own : the new 
conception is like the original, it would never probably 
have existed had not the original existed previously ; still 
it is sufficiently different from the original to be a new 
thing, not a copy or a plagiarism ; it is a creation, 
though, so to say, a suggested creation. Gray is as good 
an example as can be found of a poet whose works abound 
in this species of semi-original conceptions. Industri- 
ous critics track his best lines back, and find others like 
them which doubtless lingered near his fancy while he was 
writing them. The same critics have been equally busy 
with the works of Milton, and equally successful. They 
find traces of his reading in half his works ; not, which 
any reader could do, in overt similes and distinct illustra- 
tions, but also in the very texture of the thought and the 
expression. In many cases, doubtless, they discover more 
than he himself knew. A mind like his, which has an 
immense store of imaginative recollections, can never 
know which of his own imaginations is exactly suggested 
by which recollection. Men awake with their best ideas ; 
it is seldom worth while to investigate very curiously 
whence they came. Our proper business is to adapt, and 
mould, and act upon them. Of poets perhaps this is true 
even more remarkably than of other men ; their ideas are 
suggested in modes, and according to laws, which are even 
more impossible to specify than the ideas of the rest of the 
world. Second-hand poetry, so to say, often seems quite 
original to the poet himself ; he frequently does not know 
that he derived it from an old memory ; years afterwards it 
may strike him as it does others. Still, in general, such 



INTRODUCTION. xlvii 

inferior species of creation is not so likely to be found in 
minds of singular originality as in those of less. A brood- 
ing, placid, cultivated mind, like that of Gray, is the place 
where we should expect to meet with it. Great originality 
disturbs the adaptive process, removes the mind of the 
poet from the thoughts of other men, and occupies it 
with its own heated and flashing thoughts. Poetry of the 
second degree is like the secondary rocks of modern geol- 
ogy — a still, gentle, alluvial formation ; the igneous glow 
of primary genius brings forth ideas like the primeval 
granite, simple, astounding, and alone. Milton's case is 
an exception to this rule. His mind has marked origi- 
nality, probably as much of it as any in literature ; but it 
has as much of moulded recollection as any mind too. 
His poetry in consequence is like an artificial park, green, 
and soft, and beautiful, yet with outlines bold, distinct, and 
firm, and the eternal rock ever jutting out ; or, better still, 
it is like our own Lake scenery, where Nature has herself 
the same combination — where we have Rydal Water side 
by side with the everlasting upheaved mountain. Milton 
has the same union of softened beauty with unimpaired 
grandeur ; and it is his peculiarity. 

These are the two contrasts which puzzle us at first in 
Milton, and which distinguish him from other poets of 
our remembrance afterwards. We have a superficial com- 
plexity in illustration, and imagery, and metaphor ; and 
in contrast with it we observe a latent simplicity of idea, 
an almost rude strength of conception. The underlying 
thoughts are few, though the flowers on the surface are so 
many. We have likewise the perpetual contrast of the soft 
poetry of the memory, and the firm, as it were fused, and 
glowing poetry of the imagination. His words, we may 
half fancifully say, are like his character. There is the 



xl viii INTR OD UC TION. 

same austerity in the real essence, the same exquisiteness 
of sense, the same delicacy of form which we know that 
he had, the same music which we imagine there was in his 
voice. In both his character and his poetry there was an 
ascetic nature in a sheath of beauty. 

[Arnold, Essays in Criticism, Second Series, pp. 63-66. 1 ] 

That Milton, of all our English race, is by his diction 
and rhythm the one artist of the highest rank in the great 
style whom we have ; this I take as requiring no discussion, 
this I take as certain. 

The mighty power of poetry and art is generally ad- 
mitted. But where the soul of this power, of this power 
at its best, chiefly resides, very many of us fail to see. It 
resides chiefly in the refining and elevation wrought in us 
by the high and rare excellence of the great style. We 
may feel the effect without being able to give ourselves 
clear account of its cause, but the thing is so. Now, no 
race needs the influences mentioned, the influences of re- 
fining and elevation, more than ours ; and in poetry and 
art our grand source for them is Milton. 

To what does he owe this supreme distinction ? To 
nature first and foremost, to that bent of nature for in- 
equality which to the worshippers of the average man is 
so unacceptable ; to a gift, a divine favour. ' The older 
one grows,' says Goethe, ' the more one prizes natural gifts, 
because by no possibility can they be procured and stuck 
on.' Nature formed Milton to be a great poet. But what 
other poet has shown so sincere a sense of the grandeur of 
his vocation, and a moral effort so constant and sublime 

1 Arnold writes in a similar strain in the latter part of his essay 
entitled A French Critic on Milton, in Mixed Essays, pp. 237-273. 



INTRODUCTION. xlix 

to make and keep himself worthy of it ? The Milton of 
religious and political controversy, and perhaps of domestic 
life also, is not seldom disfigured by want of amenity, by 
acerbity. The Milton of poetry, on the other hand, is one 
of those great men ' who are modest ' — to quote a fine 
remark of Leopardi, that gifted and stricken young Italian, 
who in his sense for poetic style is worthy to be named 
with Dante and Milton — 'who are modest, because they 
continually compare themselves, not with other men, but 
with that idea of the perfect which they have before their 
mind.' The Milton of poetry is the man, in his own mag- 
nificent phrase, of 'devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit 
that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and 
sends out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, 
to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases.' And 
finally, the Milton of poetry is, in his own words again, the 
man of 'industrious and select reading.' Continually he 
lived in companionship with high and rare excellence, with 
the great Hebrew poets and prophets, with the great poets 
of Greece and Rome. The Hebrew compositions were not 
in verse, and can be not inadequately represented by the 
grand, measured prose of our English Bible. The verse of 
the poets of Greece and Rome no translation can adequately 
reproduce. Prose cannot have the power of verse ; verse- 
translation may give whatever of charm is in the soul and 
talent of the translator himself, but never the specific 
charm of the verse and poet translated. In our race are 
thousands of readers, presently there will be millions, who 
know not a word of Greek and Latin, and will never learn 
those languages. If this host of readers are ever to gain 
any sense of the power and charm of the great poets of 
antiquity, their way to gain it is not through translations 
of the ancients, but through the original poetry of Milton, 



1 INTRODUCTION. 

who has the like power and charm, because he has the like 
great style. 

TENNYSON'S SONNET TO MILTON. 

O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies, 
O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity, 
God-gifted organ-voice of England, 
Milton, a name to resound for ages ; 
Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, 
Starred from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries. 
Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean 
Rings to the roar of an angel onset — 
Me rather all that bowery loneliness, 
The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring, 
And bloom profuse and cedar arches 
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, 
Where some refulgent sunset of India 
Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, 
And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods 
Whisper in odorous heights of even. 



II. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. 

So much has been written about Milton that only the 
best can be mentioned here. The Poetical Wo?'ks of Johti 
Milton (Macmillan), in three volumes, edited by Professor 
David Masson, is the standard edition of Milton's poetry. 
The Globe edition (Macmillan), also edited by Professor 
Masson, contains the poetical works in one volume, and 
should be in the hands of every student. Of recent 
annotated editions, those of Verity and Browne may be 



INTRODUCTION. li 

specially mentioned. The other important editions, from 
Newton's down, are referred to or quoted in the notes to 
the present volume. At least as much of Milton's prose 
should be read as is contained in Morley's English Prose 
Writings of John Milton (Routledge), if the student has 
not the time or the inclination to read through the five 
volumes in the Bohn library. 

Professor Masson's Life of John Milton (Macmillan), in six 
volumes, is the authoritative biography, although Brooke's 
Milton (Appleton), Pattison's Milton (Harper), or Garnett's 
John Milton (Walter Scott), the latter of which has a good 
bibliography, will better answer the needs of the ordinary 
student. Besides the authors quoted in the Introduction to 
the present volume, whose criticisms should be read in their 
complete form, Addison, Johnson, Coleridge, Macaulay, 
Landor, Emerson, Lowell, and others of less note have 
made contributions of more or less value to Miltonic criti- 
cism. The student will find Bradshaw's Concordance to the 
Poetical Works (Macmillan) also of value ; for the history 
of Milton's time, he may consult Green's Short History of 
the English People (Harper), and Gardiner's Puritan Revo- 
lution (Longmans). 










L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS, 
AND LYCIDAS. 



L'ALLEGRO. 

Hence, loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born 
In Stygian cave forlorn 

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! 
Find out some uncouth cell, 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, 
And the night-raven sings ; 

There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, 
As ragged as thy locks, 

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 10 

But come, thou Goddess fair and free, 
In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, 
And by men heart- easing Mirth ; 
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, 
With two sister Graces more, 
To ivy- crowned Bacchus bore : 
Or whether (as some sager sing) 
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr, with Aurora playing, 
As he met her once a-Maying, 



VALLEGRO. 

There, on beds of violets blue, 

And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 

Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, 

So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee 

Jest, and youthful Jollity, 

Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, *~ 

Nods and becks and wreathed smiles 

Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 

And love to live in dimple sleeky 30 

j / . Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 

And Laughter holding both his sides. 

Come, and trip it, as you go, 

On the light fantastic toe ; 

And in thy right hand lead with thee 

The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty ; 
f ^.And, if I give thee honour due, 

Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 

To live with her, and live with thee, 



I In unreproved pleasures free : J 
To hear the lark begin his flight, 



40 



And, singing, startle the dull night, 

From his watch-tower in the skies, 

Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 

Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 

And at my window bid good-morrow, 

Through the sweet-briar or the vine, 

Or the twisted eglantine ; 

While the cock, with lively din, 

Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 50 

And to the stack, or the barn-door, 



V ALLEGRO. 3 

Stoutly struts his dames before : 

Oft listening how the hounds and horn 

Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, 

From the side of some hoar hill, 

Through the high wood echoing shrill : 

Sometime walking, not unseen, 

By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, 

Right against the eastern gate 

Where the great Sun, begins his state, 60 

Robed in flames and amber light, 

The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 

While the ploughman, near at hand, 

Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 

And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 

And the mower whets his scythe, 

And every shepherd tells his tale 

Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
^Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
' Whilst the landskip. round it measures : 70 

Russet lawns, and fallows grey,^^ 

Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 

Mountains on whose barren breast 

The labouring clouds do often rest ; 

Meadows trim, with daisies pied ; 

Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; 

Towers and battlements it sees 

Bosomed high in tufted trees, 

Where perhaps some beauty lies, ^~-j 

The cynosure of neighbouring e yes. i\ 80 

Hard by a cottage chimney smokes 

From betwixt two aged oaks, \S 



VALLEGRO. 

Where Corydon and Thyrsis met 

Are at their savoury dinner set 

Of herbs and other country messes, 

Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses ; 

And then in Jiaste her bower she leaves, 

With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 

Or, if the earlier season lead, 

To the tanned haycock in the mead. 90 

Sometimes, with secure delight, 

The upland hamlets will invite, 

When the merry bells ring round, 

And the jocund rebecks sound 

To many a youth and many a maid 

Dancing in the chequered shade, 

And young and old come forth to play 

On a sunshine holiday, 

Till the livelong daylight fail :i 

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 100 

With stories told of many a feat, 

How Faery Mab the junkets eat. 

She was pinched and pulled, she said ; 

And he, by Friar's lantern led, 

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 

To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 

When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 

His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn 

That ten day-labourers could not end ; 

Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, no 

And, stretched out all the chimney's length, 

Basks at the fire his hairy strength, 

And crop-full out of doors he flings, 



VALLEGRO. 5 

Ere the first cock his matin rings. 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 

By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. 

Towered cities please us then, 

And the busy hum of men, 

Where throngs of knights and barons bold, 

In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, 120 

With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 

Rain influence, and judge the prize 

Of wit or arms, while both contend 

To win her grace whom all commend. 

There let Hymen oft appear 

In saffron robe, with taper clear, 

And pomp, and feast, and revelry, 

With mask and antique pageantry ; 

Such sights as youthful poets dream 

On summer eves by haunted stream. 130 

Then to the well-trod stage anon, 

If Jonson's learned sock be on, 

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 

Warble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever, against eating cares, 

Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 

Married to immortal verse, 

Such as the meeting soul may pierce, 

In notes with many a winding bout 

Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 

With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 

The melting voice through mazes running, 

Untwisting all the chains that tie 

The hidden soul of harmony ; 



I 



V ALLEGRO. 

That Orpheus' self may heave his head 

From golden slumber on a bed 

Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear 

Such strains as would have won the ear 

Of Pluto to have quite set free 

His half- regained Eurydice. 150 

These delights if thou canst give, 

Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 



O 






<$ 






v 



IL PENSEROSO. 

Hence, vain deluding Joys, 

The brood of Folly without father bred ! 
How little you bested, 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! 
Dwell in some idle brain, 

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, 
As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, 
\ Or likest hovering dreams, 

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
But/ hail ! thou Goddess sage and holy ! 
Hail, divinest Melancholy ! * 
^vVhose saintly visage is too bright 
To hit the sense of human sight, 
And therefore to our weaker view 
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; 
Black, but such as in esteem 
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, 
Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove 
To set her beauty's praise above 
The Sea- Nymphs, and their powers offended. 
Yet thou art higher far descended : 
Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore 
To solitary Saturn bore ; 
His daughter she ; in Saturn's reign 
Such mixture was not held a stain. 

7 



IL PENSEROSO. 

Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 

He met her, and in secret shades 

Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 

Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. 30 

Come, pensive Nun, devout "and pure, 

Sober, steadfast, and demure, 

All in a robe of darkest grain, 

Flowing with majestic train, 

And sable stole of cypress lawn 

Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 

Come ; but keep thy wonted state, 

With even step, and musing gait, 

And looks commercing with the skies, 

Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyesjN 40 

There, held in holy passion 'still, 

Forget thyself to marble, till 

With a sad leaden downward cast 

Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, 

Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 

And hears the Muses in a ring 

Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; 

And add to these retired Leisure, 

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 50 

But, first and chief est, with thee bring 

Him that yon soars on golden wing, 

Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 

The Cherub Contemplation ; 

And the mute Silence hist along, 

'Less Philomel will deign a song, 

In her sweetest saddest plight, 



IL PENSEROSO. 9 

Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 

While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 

Gently o T 5 r the accustomed oak. 60 

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 

Most musical, most melancholy ! 

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among 

I woo, to hear thy even-song ; 

And, missing thee, I walk unseen 

On the dry smooth-shaven green, * 

To behold the wandering moon, 

Riding near her highest noon, 

Like one that had been led astray 

Through the heaven's wide pathless way, 70 

And oft, as if her head she bowed, 

Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 

Oft, on a plat of rising ground, 

I hear the far-off curfew sound, 

Over some wide-watered shore, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar ; 

Or, if the air will not permit, 

Some still removed place will fit, 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 80 

Far from all resort of mirth, 

Save the cricket on the hearth, 

Or the bellman's drowsy charm 

To bless the doors from nightly harm. 

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, 

Be seen in some high lonely tower, 

Where I may oft outwatch the Bear^_ 

With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere 



10 IL PENSEROSO. 

The spirit of Plato , to unfold 

What worlds or what vast regions hold 90 

The immortal mind that hath forsook 

Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; 

And of those demons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or underground, 

Whose power hath a true consent 

With planet or with element. 

Sometime let gorge ous Trage dy 

In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 

Presenting Thebes, or Pejogsl line, 

Or the tale of Troy divine, 100 

Or what (though rare) of later age 

Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 

But, O sad Virgin ! that thy power 

Might raise Musaeus from his bower ; 

Or bid the soul of Orpheu s sing 

Such notes as, warbled to the string, 

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 

And made Hell grant what love did seek ; 

Or call up him that left half-told 

The story of Cambuscan bold, no 

Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 

And who had Canace to wife, 

That owned the virtuous ring and glass, * 

And of the wondrous horse of brass 

On which the Tartar king did ride ; 

And if aught else great bards beside 

In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 

Of turneys, and of trophies hung, 

Of forests, and enchantments drear, 



IL PENSEROSO. 11 

Where more is meant than meets the ear. 120 

Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 

Till civil-suited Morn appear, 

Not tricked and frounced, as she was wont 

With the Attic boy to hunt, 

But kerchieft in a comely cloud, 

While rocking winds are piping loud, 

Or ushered with a shower still, 

When the gust hath blown his fill, 

Ending on the rustling leaves, 

With minute-drops from off the eaves. 130 

And, when the sun begins to fling 

His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring 

To arched walks of twilight groves, 

And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, 

Of pine, or monumental oak, 

Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 

Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, 

Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 

There, in close covert, by some brook, 

Where no profaner eye may look, 140 

Hide me from day's garish eye, 

While the bee with honeyed thigh, 

That at her flowery work doth sing, 

And the, waters murmuring, 

With such consort as they keep, 

Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. 

And let some strange mysterious dream 

Wave at his wings, in airy stream 

Of lively portraiture displayed, 

Softly on my eyelids laid; 150 



12 IL PENSEROSO. 

And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 
Above, about, or underneath, 
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 
Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 
But let my due feet never fail 
' To walk the studious cloister^s pale, 
And love the high embowed roof, 
With antique pillars massy proof, 
And storied windows richly clight, 
Casting a dim religious light. 160 

There let the pealing organ blow, 
To the full-voiced quire below, 
In service high and anthems clear, 
As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 
Dissolve me into ecstasies, 
And bring all Heaven before mine eyesj 
And may at last my weary age 
Find out the peaceful hermitage, 
The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 170 

Of every star that heaven doth shew, 
And every herb that sips the dew, 
Till old experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain. 
These pleasures, Melancholy, give ; 
And I with thee will choose to live. 



COMUS. 

A Masque Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634, before the 
Earl of Bridgewater, then President of Wales. 

THE PERSONS. 

The Attendant Spirit, afterwards in the habit of Thyrsis. 

Comus, with his Crew. 

The Lady. 

First Brother. 

Second Brother. 

Sabrina, the Nymph. 

The Chief Persons which presented were : — r 

The Lord Brackley; 

Mr. Thomas Egerton, his Brother; 

The Lady Alice Egerton. 



COMUS. 

The first Scene discovers a wild wood. 
The Attendant Spirit descends or enters. 

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 
Of bright aerial spirits live insphered 
In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot 
Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care, 
Confined and pestered in this pinfold here, 
Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 
Unmindful of the crown that Virtue gives, 
After this mortal change, to her true servants 10 

Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats. 
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 
To lay their just hands on that golden key 
That opes the palace of eternity. 
To such my errand is ; and, but for such, 
I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds 
With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 
But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway 
Of every salt flood and each ebbing stream, • 
Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove, 20 

Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles 
That, like to rich and various gems, inlay 
The unadorned bosom of the deep ; 

14 



COM US. 15 

Which he, to grace his tributary gods, 

By course commits to several government, 

And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns 

And wield their little tridents. But this Isle, 

The greatest and the best of all the main, 

He quarters to his blue-haired deities ; 

And all this tract that fronts the falling sun 30 

A noble Peer of mickle trust and power 

Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide 

An old and haughty nation, proud in arms : 

Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore, 

Are coming to attend their father's state, 

And new-intrusted sceptre. But their way 

Lies through the perplexed paths of this drear wood, 

The nodding horror of whose shady brows 

Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger ; 

And here their tender age might suffer peril, 40 

But that, by quick command from sovran Jove, - 

I was despatched for their defence and guard : 

And listen why ; for I will tell you now 

What never yet was heard in tale or song, 

From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. 

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine, 
After the Tuscan mariners transformed, 
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, 
On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe, 50 

The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup 
Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, 
And downward fell into a grovelling swine ?) 
This Nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks, 



16 COMUS. 

With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, 

Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son 

Much like his father, but his mother more, 

Whom therefore she brought up, and Comus named : 

Who, ripe and frolic of his full-grown age, 

Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 60 

At last betakes him to this ominous wood, 

And, in thick shelter of black shades imbowered, 

Excels his mother at her mighty art ; 

Offering to every weary traveller 

His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 

To quench the drouth of Phoebus ; which as they taste 

(For most do taste through fond intemperate thirst), 

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, 

The express resemblance of the gods, is changed 

Into some brutish form of wolf or bear, 70 

Or ounce or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, 

All other parts remaining as they were. 

And they, so perfect is their misery, 

Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, 

But boast themselves more comely than before, 

And all their friends and native home forget, 

To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 

Therefore, when any favoured of high Jove 

Chances to pass through this adventurous glade, 

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 80 

I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy, 

As now I do. But first I must put off 

These my sky- robes, spun out of Iris' woof, 

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain 

That to the service of this house belongs, 



^° 




COMUS. 17 



Who, with his soft pipe and smooth-dittied song, 

Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar| 

And hush the waving woods ; nor of less faith 

And in this office of his mountain watch 

Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 90 

Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 

Of hateful steps ; I must be viewless now. 

Comus enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in 
the other : with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry 
sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, 
their apparel glistering. They come in making a riotous 
and unruly noise, with torches in their hands. 

Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold 
Now the top of heaven doth hold ; 
And the gilded car of day 
His glowing axle doth allay 
In the steep Atlantic stream ; 
And the slope sun his upward beam 
Shoots against the dusky pole, 

Pacing toward the other goal 100 

Of his chamber in the east. 
Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast, 
Midnight shout and revelry, 
Tipsy dance and jollity. 
Braid your locks with rosy twine, 
Dropping odours, dropping wine. 
Rigour now is gorte to bed ; 
And Advice with scrupulous head, 
Strict Age, and sour Severity, 
With their grave saws, in slumber lie. no 



18 COMUS. 

We, that are of purer fire, 

Imitate the starry quire, 

Who, in their nightly watchful spheres, 

Lead in swift round the months and years. 

The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; 

And on the tawny sands and shelves 

Trip the pert fairies and the clapper elves. 

By dimpled brook and fountain-brim, 

The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim, 120 

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep : 

What hath night to do with sleep ? 

Night hath better sweets to prove ; 

Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. 

Come, let us our rights begin ; 

'Tis only daylight that makes sin, 

Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 

Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport, 

Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame 

Of midnight torches burns ! mysterious dame, ^130 

That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb 

Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom, 

And makes one blot of all the air ! 

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, 

Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend 

Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end 

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, 

Ere the blabbing eastern scout, 

The nice Morn on the Indian steep, 

From her cabined loop-hole peep, 140 

And to the tell-tale Sun descry 



COMUS. 19 

Our concealed solemnity. 

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground 

In a light fantastic round. 

The Measure. 

Break off, break off ! I feel the different pace 
Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees ; 
Our number may affright. Some virgin sure 
(For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
Benighted in these woods ! Now to my charms, 150 
And to my wily trains : I shall ere long 
Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed 
About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 
My dazzling spells into the spongy air, 
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, 
And give it false presentments, lest the place 
And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 
And put the damsel to suspicious flight ; 
Which must not be, for that 's against my course. 
I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, 160 

And well-placed words of glozing courtesy, 
Baited with reasons not implausible, 
Wind me into the easy-hearted man, 
And hug him into snares. When once her eye 
Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 
I shall appear some harmless villager 
Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 
But here she comes ; I fairly step aside, 
And hearken, if I may her business hear. 



20 COMUS. 



The Lady enters. 



Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170 
My best guide now. Methought it was the sound 
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe 
Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds, 
When, for their teeming flocks and granges full, 
In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan, 
And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth 
To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence 
Of such late wassailers ; yet, oh ! where else 
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 180 

In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? 
My brothers, when they saw me wearied out 
With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
Under the spreading favour of these pines, 
Stepped, as they said, to the next thicket-side 
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
V~They left me then when the grey-hooded Even, 
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, 
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. 190 
But where they are, and why they came not back, 
Is now the labour of my thoughts. 'T is likeliest 
They had engaged their wandering steps too far ; 
And envious darkness, ere they could return, 
Had stole them from me. Else, O thievish Night, 
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars ri 
That Nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps 







COMUS. 

With everlasting oil to give due light 

To the misled and lonely traveller ? 

This is the place, as well as I may guess, 

Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 

Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear ; 

Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 

What might this be ? A thousand fantasies 

Begin to throng into my memory, 

Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, 

And airy tongues that syllable men's names 

On sands and shores and desert wildernesses. 

These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 

The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 

By a strong siding champion, Conscience. 

O, welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 

Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings, 

And thou unblemished form of Chastity ! 

I see ye visibly, and now believe 

That He, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill 

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance, 

Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, 

To keep my life and honour unassailed. . . . 

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night ? 

I did not err : there does a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 

And casts a gleam over this tufted grove. 

I cannot hallo to my brothers, but 

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 

I '11 venture ; for my new-enlivened spirits 

Prompt me, and they perhaps are not far off. 



22 COMUS. 



Song. 



Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen 230 

Within thy airy shell 
By slow Meander's margent green, 
And in the violet-embroidered vale 

Where the love-lorn nightingale 
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well : 
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle gay 
That likest thy Narcissus are ? 

O, if thou have 
Hid them in some flowery cave, 

Tell me but where, 240 

Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere ! 
So may'st thou be translated to the skies, 
And give resounding grace to all Heaven's harmonies ! 

Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? 
Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 
And with these raptures moves the vocal air 
To testify his hidden residence. 
How sweetly did they float upon the wings 
Of silence, through the empty- vaulted night, 250 

At every fall smoothing the raven down 
Of darkness till it smiled ! I have oft heard 
My mother Circe with the Sirens three, 
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, 
Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs, 
Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul, 
And lap it in Elysium : Scylla wept, 



COMUS. 23 

And chid her barking waves into attention, 

And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause. 

Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense, 260 

And in sweet madness robbed it of itself ; 

But such a sacred and home-felt delight, 

Such sober certainty of waking bliss, 

I never heard till now. I '11 speak to her, 

And she shall be my queen. — Hail, foreign wonder ! 

Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, 

Unless the goddess that in rural shrine 

Dwell' st here with Pan or Sylvan, by blest song 

Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 

To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 270 

Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
That is addressed to unattending ears. 
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 
How to regain my severed company, 
Compelled me to awake the courteous Echo 
To give me answer from her mossy couch. 

Co j mis. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you 
thus ? 

Lady. Dim darkness and this leafy labyrinth. 

Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering 
guides ? 

Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. 280 

Comics. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why ? 

Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. 

Comus. And left your fair side alj^unguarded, Lady ? 

Lady. They were but twain, and' purposed quick 
return. 

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. 



24 COMUS. 

Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 

Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present need ? 

Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. 

Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom ? 

Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazored lips. 290 

Comus. Two such I saw, what time the laboured ox 
In his loose traces from the furrow came, 
And the swinked hedger at his supper sat. 
I saw them under a green mantling vine, 
That crawls along the side of yon small hill, 
Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; 
Their port was more than human, as they stood. 
I took it for a faery vision 
Of some gay creatures of the element, 
That in the colours of the rainbow live, 300 

And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-strook, 
And, as I passed, I worshiped. If those you seek, 
It were a journey like the path to Heaven 
To help you find them. 

Lady. Gentle villager, 

What readiest way would bring me to that place ? 

Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. 

Lady. To find out that, good shepherd, I suppose, 
In such a scant allowance of star-light, 
Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 310 

Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green, 
Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood, 
And every bosky bourn from side to side, 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; 
And, if your stray attendance be yet lodged, 



COMUS. 25 

Or shroud within these limits, I shall know 

Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 

From her thatched pallet rouse. If otherwise, 

I can conduct you, Lady, to a low 

But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 320 

Till further quest. 

Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, 

And trust thy honest-offered courtesy, 
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds, 
With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls 
And courts of princes, where it first was named, 
And yet is most pretended. In a place 
Less warranted than this, or less secure, 
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
To my proportioned strength ! Shepherd, lead on. 330 



The Two Brothers. 

Eld. Bro. Unmuffle, ye faint stars ; and thou, fair moon, 
That wont'st to love the traveller's benison, 
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, 
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
In double night of darkness and of shades ; 
Or, if your influence be quite dammed up 
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, 
Though a rush- candle from the wicker hole 
Of some clay habitation, visit us 

With thy long levelled rule of streaming light, 340 

And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, 
Or Tyrian Cynosure. 



26 COMUS. 

Sec. Bro. Or, if our eyes 

Be barred that happiness, might we but hear 
The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes, 
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, 
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
Count the night-watches to his feathery dames, 
'T would be some solace yet, some little cheering, 
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister ! 350 

Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, amongst rude burs and thistles ? 
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught with sad fears. 
What if in wild amazement and affright, 
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp 
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat ! 

Eld. Bro. Peace, brother ; be not over-exqiiisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 360 

For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 
What need a man forestall his date of grief, 
And run to meet what he would most avoid ? 
Or, if they be but false alarms of fear, 
How bitter is such self-delusion ! 
I do not think my sister so to seek, 
Or so unprincipled in virtue's book, 
And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 
As that the single want of light and noise 
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 370 

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, 
And put them into misbecoming plight. 






COM US. 27 

I 

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would 

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 

Were in the flat sea sunkj' And Wisdom's self 

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, 

Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, 

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, 

1 That, in the various bustle of resort, 

Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired. 380 

/Tie that has light within his own clear breast 
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day : 
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts 
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; 
Himself is his own dungeon. »J 
^ Sec. Bro. ' 'Tis most true 

That musing meditation most affects 
The pensive secrecy of desert cell, 
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, 
And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; 
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 390 

His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 
Or do his grey hairs any violence ? 
But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree 
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 
Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye 
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit, 
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence. 
You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps 
Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, 
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 400 

Danger will wink on Opportunity, 
And let a single helpless maiden pass 



28 COMUS. 

Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. 
Of night or loneliness it recks me not ; 
I fear the dread events that dog them both, 
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 
Of our unowned sister. 

Eld. Bro. I do not, brother, 

Infer as if I thought my sister's state 
Secure without all doubt or controversy ; 
Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear 410 

Does arbitrate the event, my nature is 
That I incline to hope rather than fear, 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
My sister is not so defenceless left 
As you imagine ; she has a hidden strength, 
Which you remember not. 

Sec. Bro. What hidden strength, 

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that ? 

Eld. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, 
Which, if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own. 
'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity: 420 

She that has that is clad in complete steel, 
And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen, 
May trace huge forests, and unharboured heaths, 
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds ; 
Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, 
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, 
Will dare to soil her virgin purity. 
Yea, there where very desolation dwells, 
By grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades, 
She may pass on with unblenched majesty, 43° 

Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 



COMUS. 29 

Some say no evil thing that walks by night, 

In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, 

Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, 

That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, 

No goblin or swart faery of the mine, 

Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 

To testify the arms of chastity ? 440 

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow 

Fair silver-shafted queen for ever chaste, 

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness 

And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought 

The frivolous bolt of Cupid ; gods and men 

Feared her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods. 

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield 

That wise Minerva wore, unconquered virgin, 

Wherewith she freezed her foes to congealed stone, 

But rigid looks of chaste austerity, ,450 

And noble grace that dashed brute violence 

With sudden adoration and blank awe ? 

So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity 

That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 

A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 

And in clear dream and solemn vision 

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear ; 

Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 

Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, 460 

The unpolluted temple of the mind, 

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 



30 COMUS. 

Till all be made immortal.^ 1 But, when lust, 

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 

Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 

The soul grows clotted by contagion, 

Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose 

The divine property of her first being. 

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 470 

Oft seen in charnel-vaults and sepulchres, 

Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave, 

As loth to leave the body that it loved, 

And linked itself by carnal sensualty 

To a degenerate and degraded state. [/ 

Sec. Bro. How charming is divine Philosophy ! 
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, 
But musical as is Apollo's lute, 
And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, 
Where no crude surfeit reigns. 

Eld. Bro. List ! list ! I hear 480 

Some far-off hallo break the silent air. 

Sec. Bro. Methought so too ; what should it be ? 

Eld. Bro. For certain, 

Either some one, like us, night-foundered here, 
Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, 
Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 

Sec. Bro. Heaven keep my sister ! Again, again, 
and near ! 
Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 

Eld. Bro. I '11 hallo. 

If he be friendly, he comes well : if not, 
Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us ! 



ft 






COM US. 31 



The Attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd. 

That hallo I should know. What are you ? speak. 490 
Come not too near ; you fall on iron stakes else. 

Spir. What voice is that ? my young Lord ? speak 
again . 

Sec. Bro. O brother, 't is my father's Shepherd, sure. 

Eld. Bro. Thyrsis ! whose artful strains have oft 
delayed 
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 
And sweetened every musk-rose of the dale. 
How earnest thou here, good swain ? Hath any ram 
Slipped from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, 
Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ? 
How couldst thou find this dark sequestered nook ? 500 

Spir, O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, 
I came not here on such a trivial toy 
As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
Of pilfering wolf ; not all the fleecy wealth 
That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 
To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
But, oh ! my virgin Lady, where is she ? 
How chance she is not in your company ? 

Eld. Bro. To tell thee sadly, Shepherd, without blame 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 510 

Spir. Ay me unhappy ! then my fears are true. 

Eld. Bro. What fears, good Thyrsis ? Prithee briefly 
shew. 

Spir. I '11 tell ye. 'T is not vain or fabulous 
(Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance) 
What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly Muse, 




32 COMUS. 

Storied of old in high immortal verse 

Of dire Chimeras and enchanted isles, 

And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell ; 

For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 

Within the navel of this hideous wood, 520 

Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells, 
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, 
Deep skilled in all his mother's witcheries, 
And here to every thirsty wanderer 
By sly enticement gives his baneful cup, 
With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison 
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, 
And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
Charactered in the face. This have I learnt 530 

Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts 
That brow this bottom glade ; whence night by night 
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl 
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey, 
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells 
To inveigle and' invite the unwary sense 
Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
This evening late, by then the chewing flocks 540 

Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 
I sat me down to watch upon a bank 
With ivy canopied, and interwove 
With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, 
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, 



COMUS. 33 

To meditate my rural minstrelsy, 

Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close 

The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, 

And filled the air with barbarous dissonance ; 550 

At which I ceased, and listened them awhile, 

Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 

Gave respite to the drowsy-flighted steeds 

That draw the litter of close-curtained Sleep. 

At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 

Rose like a steam of rich distilled perfumes, 

And. stole upon the air, that even Silence 

Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might 

Deny her nature, and be never more, 

Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, 560 

And took in strains that might create a soul 

Under the ribs of Death. But, oh ! ere long 

Too well I did perceive it was the voice 

Of my most honoured Lady, your dear sister. 

Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief and fear ; 

And "O poor hapless nightingale," thought I, 

" How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare ! " 

Then clown the lawns I ran with headlong haste, 

Through paths and turnings often trod by day, 

Till, guided by mine ear, I found the place 570 

Where that damned wizard, hid in sly disguise 

(For so by certain signs I knew), had met 

Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 

The aidless innocent lady, his wished prey ; 

Who gently asked if he had seen such two, 

Supposing him some neighbour villager. 

Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessed 



34 COMUS. 

Ye were the two she meant ; with that I sprung 

Into swift flight, till I had found you here ; 

But further know I not. 

Sec. Bro. O night and shades, 580 

How are ye joined with hell in triple knot 

Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, 

Alone and helpless ! Is this the confidence 

You gave me, brother ? 

Eld. Bro. Yes, and keep it still ; 

Lean on it safely ; not a period 

Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats 

Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 

Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm : 
^Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, 
\ Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled ; J 59° 

Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm 

Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. 

But evil on itself shall back recoil, 

And mix no more with goodness, when at last, 

Gathered like scum, and settled to itself, 

It shall be in eternal restless change 

Self-fed and self- consumed. If this fail, 

The pillared firmament is rottenness, 

And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let 's on ! 

Against the opposing will and arm of heaven 600 

May never this just sword be lifted up ; 

But, for that- damned magician, let him be girt 

With all the griesly legions that troop 

Under the sooty flag of Acheron, 

Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 

'Twixt Africa and Ind, I '11 find him out, 



COMUS. 35 

And force him to return his purchase back, 
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 
Cursed as his life. 

Spir. Alas ! good venturous youth, 

I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise ; 610 

But here thy sword can do thee little stead. 
Far other arms and other weapons must 
Be those that quell the might of hellish charms. 
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, 
And crumble all thy sinews. 

Eld. Bro. Why, prithee, Shepherd, 

How durst thou then thyself approach so near 
As to make this relation ? 

Spir. Care and utmost shifts 

How to secure the Lady from surprisal 
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, 
Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled 620 

In every virtuous plant and healing herb 
That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray. 
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing ; 
Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy, 
And in requital ope his leathern scrip, 
And show me simples of a thousand names, 
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties. 
Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, 
But of divine effect, he culled me out. 630 

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, 
But in another country, as he said, 
Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil : 
Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swain 



36 COMUS. 

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon ; 

And yet more med'cinal is it than that Moly 

That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave. 

He called it Haemony, and gave it me, 

And bade me keep it as of sovran use 

'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp, 640 

Or ghastly Furies' apparition. 

I pursed it up, but little reckoning made, 

Till now that this extremity compelled. 

But now I find it true ; for by this means 

I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised, 

Entered the very lime-twigs of his spells, 

And yet came off. If you have this about you 

(As I will give you when we go), you may 

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood 650 

And brandished blade rush on him : break his glass, 

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground ; 

But seize his wand. Though he and his curst crew 

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high, 

Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke, 

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 

Eld. Bro. Thyrsis, lead on apace ; I '11 follow thee ; 
And some good angel bear a shield before us ! 

The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all ?nanner of 
deliciousness : soft music, tables spread with all dainties. 
Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an 
enchanted chair ; to whom he offers his glass ; which she 
Puts by, and goes about to rise. 

Comus. Nay, Lady, sit. If I but wave this wand, 
Your nerves are all chained up in alabaster, 660 






COM US. 37 

And you a statue, or as Daphne was, 
Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 

Lady. Fool, do not boast. 

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
Thou hast immanacled while Heaven sees good. 

Comics. Why are you vexed, Lady ? why do you frown ? 
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates 
Sorrow flies far. See, here be all the pleasures 
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, 
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 670 

Brisk as the April buds in primrose season. 
And first behold this cordial julep here, 
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds, 
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixed. 
Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone 
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena 
Is of such power to stir up joy as this, 
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 
Why should you be so cruel to yourself, 
And to those dainty limbs, which Nature lent 680 

For gentle usage and soft delicacy ? 
But you invert the covenants of her trust, 
And harshly deal, like an ill borrower, 
W r ith that which you received on other terms, 
Scorning the unexempt condition 
By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 
Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, 
That have been tired all day without repast, 
And timely rest have wanted. But, fair virgin, 
This will restore all soon. 



38 COMUS. 

Lady. 'T will not, false traitor ! 690 

'Twill not restore the truth and honesty 
That thou hast banished from thy tongue with lies. 
Was this the cottage and the safe abode 
Thou told'st me of ? What grim aspects are these, 
These oughly-headed monsters ? Mercy guard me ! 
Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver ! 
Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence 
With vizored falsehood and base forgery ? 
And would' st thou seek again to trap me here 
With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute ? 700 

Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
I would not taste thy treasonous offer. (LNone 
But such as are good men can give good things ; 
And that which is not good is not delicious 
To a well-governed and wise appetite. 

Comus. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, 
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, 
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence ! 
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth 710 

With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, 
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, 
But all to please and sate the curious taste ? 
And set to work millions of spinning worms, 
That in their green shops weave the smooth-haired silk, 
To deck her sons ; and, that no corner might 
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins 
She hutched the all-worshipped ore and precious gems, 
To store her children with. If all the world 720 



COMUS. 39 

Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse, 

Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, 

The All-giver would be unthanked, would be unpraised, 

Not half his riches known, and yet despised ; 

And we should serve him as a grudging master, 

As a penurious niggard of his wealth, 

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons, 

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 

And strangled with her waste fertility : 

The earth cumbered, and the winged air darked with 

plumes, 73 o 

The herds would over-multitude their lords ; 
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought 

diamonds 
Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 
And so bestud with stars, that they below 
Would grow inured to light, and come at last 
To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 
List, Lady ; be not coy, and be not cozened 
With that same vaunted name, Virginity. 
Beauty is Nature's coin ; must not be hoarded, 
But must be current ; and the good thereof 740 

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, 
Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself. 
If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 
It withers on the stalk with languished head. 
Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown 
In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, 
Where most may wonder at the workmanship. 
It is for homely features to keep home ; 
They had their name thence : coarse complexions 



40 COMUS. 

And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply 750 

The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 

What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, 

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn ? 

There was another meaning in these gifts ; 

Think what, and be advised ; you are but young yet. 

Lady. I had not thought to have unlocked my lips 
In this unhallowed air, but that this juggler 
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, 
Obtruding false rules pranked in reason's garb. 
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments 760 

And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
Impostor ! do not charge most innocent Nature, 
As if she would her children should be riotous 
With her abundance. She, good cateress, 
Means her provision only to the good, 
That live according to her sober laws, 
And holy dictate of spare Temperance. 
If every just man that now pines with want 
Had but a moderate and beseeming share 
Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury 770 

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 
Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed 
In unsuperfluous even proportion, 
And she no whit encumbered with her store ; 
And then the Giver would be better thanked, 
His praise clue paid : for swinish gluttony 
Ne'er looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, 
But with besotted base ingratitude 
Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on ? 
Or have I said enow ? To him that dares 780 



COM US. 41 

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 

Against the sun-clad power of chastity 

Fain would I something say ; — yet to what end ? 

Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend 

The sublime notion and high mystery 

That must be uttered to unfold the sage 

And serious doctrine of Virginity ; 

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 

More happiness than this thy present lot. 

Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, 790 

That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence ; 

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced. 

Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth 

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 

To such a flame of sacred vehemence 

That dumb things would be moved to sympathise, 

And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake, 

Till all thy magic structures, reared so high, 

Were shattered into heaps o'er thy false head. 

Comus. She fables not. I feel that I do fear 800 
Her words set off by some superior power ; 
And, though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering dew 
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 
Speaks thunder and the chains of Erebus 
To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 
And try her yet more strongly. — Come, no more ! 
This is mere moral babble, and direct 
Against the canon laws of our foundation. 
I must not suffer this ; yet 't is but the lees 
And settlings of a melancholy blood. 810 

But this will cure all straight ; one sip of this 



42 COMUS. 

Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight 
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste. 

The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out 
of his hand, and break it against the ground : his rout 
?nake sign of resistance, but are all driven in. The Attend- 
ant Spirit co?nes in. 

Spir. What ! have you let the false enchanter scape ? 
O ye mistook ; ye should have snatched his wand, 
And bound him fast. Without his rod reversed, 
And backward mutters of dissevering power, 
We cannot free the Lady that sits here 
In stony fetters fixed and motionless. 
Yet stay : be not disturbed ; now I bethink me, 820 

Some other means I have which may be used, 
Which once of Melibceus old I learnt, 
The soothes t shepherd that e'er piped on plains. 

There is a gentle Nymph not far from hence, 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream : 
Sabrina is her name : a virgin pure ; 
Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, 
That had the sceptre from his father Brute. 
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 
Of her enraged stepdame, Guendolen, 830 

Commended her fair innocence to the flood 
That stayed her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
The water-nymphs, that in the bottom played, 
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, 
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall ; 
Who, piteous of her woes, reared her lank head, 
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 



y 

^D (Xy^y{ COMUS. 43 



In nectared lavers strewed with asphodil, 

And through the porch and inlet of each sense 

Dropt in ambrosial oils, till she revived, 840 

And underwent a quick immortal change, 

Made Goddess of the river. Still she retains 

Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 

Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, 

Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 

That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make, 

Which she with precious vialed liquors heals : 

For which the shepherds, at their festivals, 

Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, 

And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 850 

Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 

And, as the old swain said, she can unlock 

The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell, 

If she be right invoked in warbled song ; 

For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 

To aid a virgin, such as was herself, 

In hard-besetting need. This will I try, 

And add the power of some adjuring verse. 

Song. 
Sabrina fair, 

Listen where thou art sitting 860 

Under the glassy, cool, translmcent wave, 

In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; 

Listen for dear honour's sake, 
Goddess of the silver lake, 

Listen and save ! 



44 COMUS. 

Listen, and appear to us, 

In name of great Oceanus. 

By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 

And Tethys' grave majestic pace ; 870 

By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 

And the Carpathian wizard's hook ; 

By scaly Triton's winding shell, 

And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell ; 

By Leucothea's lovely hands, 

And her son that rules the strands ; 

By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet, 

And the songs of Sirens sweet ; 

By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 

And fair Ligea's golden comb, 880 

Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks 

Sleeking her soft alluring locks ; 

By all the Nymphs that nightly dance 

Upon thy streams with wily glance ; 

Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 

From thy coral-paven bed, 

And bridle in thy headlong wave, 

Till thou our summons answered have. 

Listen and save ! 

Sabrina rises, attended by \Vater-1iy7nphs, and sings. 

By the rushy-fringed bank, 890 

Where grows the willow and the osier dank, 

My sliding chariot stays, 
Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen 
Of turkis blue, and emerald green, 

That in the channel strays ; 



\yi^v\j^A^ 



/ ' 

COMUS. 




Whilst from off the waters fleet 
Thus I set my printless feet 
O'er the cowslip's velvet head, 

That bends not as I tread. 
Gentle swain, at thy request 900 

I am here ! 

Spir. Goddess dear, 
We implore thy powerful hand 
To undo the charmed band 
Of true virgin here distressed 
Through the force and through the wile 
Of unblessed enchanter vile. 

Sabr. Shepherd, 't is my office best 
To help ensnared chastity. 

Brightest Lady, look on me. 910 

Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 
Drops that from my fountain pure 
I have kept of precious cure ; 
Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 
Thrice upon thy rubied lip : 
Next this marble venomed seat, 
Smeared with gums of glutinous heat, 
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold. 
Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 
And I must haste ere morning hour 920 

To wait in Amphitrite's bower. 

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat. 

Spir. Virgin, daughter of Locrine, 
Sprung of old Anchises' line, 



46 COMUS. 

May thy brimmed waves for this 

Their full tribute never miss 

From a thousand petty rills, 

That tumble down the snowy hills : 

Summer drouth or singed air 

Never scorch thy tresses fair, 

Nor wet October's torrent flood 930 

Thy molten crystal fill with mud ; 

May thy billows roll ashore 

The beryl and the golden ore ; 

May thy lofty head be crowned 

With many a tower and terrace round, 

And here and there thy banks upon 

With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 

Come, Lady ; while Heaven lends us grace, 

Let us fly this cursed place, 

Lest the sorcerer us entice 940 

With some other new device. 

Not a waste or needless sound 

Till we come to holier ground. 

I shall be your faithful guide 

Through this gloomy covert wide ; 

And not many furlongs thence 

Is your Father's residence, 

Where this night are met in state 

Many a friend to gratulate 

His wished presence, and beside 950 

All the swains that there abide 

With jigs and rural dance resort. 

We shall catch them at their sport, 

And our sudden coming there 



COM US. 47 

Will double all their mirth and cheer. 
Come, let us haste ; the stars grow high, 
But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow Town, and the President's 
Castle: then come in Country Dancers; after them the 
Attendant Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady. 

Song. 

Spir. Back, shepherds, back! Enough your play 
Till next sun-shine holiday. 

Here be, without duck or nod, g6o 

Other trippings to be trod 
Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
As Mercury did first devise 
With the mincing Dryades 
On the lawns and on the leas. 

The second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. 

Noble Lord and Lady bright, 
I have brought ye new delight. 
Here behold so goodly grown 
Three fair branches of your own. 
Heaven hath timely tried their youth, 970 

Their faith, their patience, and their truth, 
And sent them here through hard assays 
With a crown of deathless praise, 
To triumph in victorious dance 
O'er sensual folly and intemperance. 



48 COMUS. 

The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguizes. 

Spir. To the ocean now I fly, 
And those happy climes that lie 
Where day never shuts his eye, 
Up in the broad fields of the sky. 
There I suck the liquid air, 980 

All amidst the gardens fair 
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three 
That sing about the golden tree. 
Along the crisped shades and bowers 
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring ; 
The Graces and the rosy-bosomed Hours 
Thither all their bounties bring. 
There eternal Summer dwells ; 
And west winds with musky wing 
About the cedarn alleys fling 990 

Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
Iris there with humid bow 
Waters the odorous banks, that blow 
Flowers of more mingled hue 
Than her pur fled scarf can shew, 
And drenches with Elysian dew 
(List, mortals, if .your ears be true) 
Beds of hyacinth and roses, 
Where young Adonis oft reposes, 
Waxing well of his deep wound, 1000 

In slumber soft, and on the ground 
Sadly sits the Assyrian queen. 
But far above, in spangled sheen, 
Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced 



COMUS. 49 

Holds his dear Psyche, sweet entranced 

After her wandering labours long, 

Till free consent the gods among 

Make her his eternal bride, 

And from her fair unspotted side 

Two blissful twins are to be born, ioio 

Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. 

But now my task is smoothly done : 
I can fly, or I can run, 
Quickly to the green earth's end, 
Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend, 
And from thence can soar as soon 
To the corners of the moon. 
Mortals, that would follow me, 
Love Virtue ; she alone is free. 
She can teach ye how to climb 1020 

Higher than the sphery chime ; 
Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
Heaven itself would stoop to her. 



LYCIDAS. 

In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunately drowned 
in his passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637 ; and, by occasion, 
foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy, then in their height. 

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 

Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 

I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 

And with forced fingers rude 

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 

Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear 

Compels me to disturb your season due ; 

For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 

Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. ' 

Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 10 

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 

He must not float upon his watery bier 

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 

Without the meed of some melodious tear. 

Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well 
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ; 
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse : 
So may some gentle Muse 

With lucky words favour my destined urn, 20 

And as he passes turn, 
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud ! 

50 



LYC/DAS. 51 

For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill ; 
Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, 
We drove a-field, and both together heard 
What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn, 
Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright 30 

Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. 
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute ; 
Tempered to the oaten flute, 

Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 
From the glad sound would not be absent long ; 
And old Damcetas loved to hear our song. 

But, oh ! the heavy change, now thou art gone, 
Now thou art gone and never must return ! 
Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, 
With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 40 
And all their echoes, mourn. 
The willows, and the hazel copses green, 
Shall now no more be seen 
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
As killing as the canker to the rose, 
Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, 
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 
When first the white-thorn blows ; 
Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 

Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep 50 
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? 
For neither were ye playing on the steep 
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 



52 L YCIDAS. 

Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. 

Ay me ! I fondly dream 

" Had ye been there," ... for what could that have done ? 

What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 

The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, 

Whom universal nature did lament, 60 

When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, 

His gory visage down the stream was sent, 

Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? 

Alas ! what boots it with uncessant care 
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade, 
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? 
Were it not better done, as others use, 
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? 
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 70 

(That last infirmity of noble mind) 
To scorn delights and live laborious days ; 
But, the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 
And slits the thin-spun life. " But not the praise," 
Phcebus replied, and touched my trembling ears : 
" Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 
Nor in the glistering foil 

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, 80 

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes 
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; 
As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed." 



L YCIDAS. 53 

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, 
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, 
That strain I heard was of a higher mood. 
But now my oat proceeds, 
And listens to the Herald of the Sea, 
That came in Neptune's plea. 9 o 

He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 
What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain ? 
And questioned every gust of rugged wings 
That blows from off each beaked promontory. 
They knew not of his story ; 
And sage Hippotades their answer brings, 
That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed : 
The air was calm, and on the level brine 
Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, ioo 

Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, 
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, 
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, 
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. 
" Ah ! who hath reft," quoth he, " my dearest pledge ? " 
Last came, and last did go, 
The Pilot of the Galilean Lake ; 

Two massy keys he bore of metals twain no 

(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). 
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : — 
" How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, 
Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake, 
Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ! 



54 L YCIDAS. 

Of other care they little reckoning make 

Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, 

And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 

Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold 

A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least 120 

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! 

What recks it them ? What need they ? They are sped : 

And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs 

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 

But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, 

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 

Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 

Daily devours apace, and nothing said. 

But that two-handed engine at the door 130 

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." 

Return, Alpheus ; the dread voice is past 
That shrunk thy streams ; return Sicilian Muse, 
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. 
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, 
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 140 
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 
The glowing violet, 
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 



L YCIDAS. 55 

With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 

And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; 

Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 

And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 150 

To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 

For so, to interpose a little ease, 

Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, 

Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 

Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled ; 

Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 

Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 

Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 

Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 

Sleep 'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 160 

Where the great Vision of the guarded mount 

Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold. 

Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth : 

And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. 

Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, 
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, 
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. 
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 170 
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, 
Where, other groves and other streams along, 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 



56 LYCIDAS. 

There entertain him all the Saints above, 

In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 

That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 

Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; 

Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore, 

In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 

To all that wander in that perilous flood. 

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 
While the still morn went out with sandals grey : 
He touched the tender stops of various quills, 
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : 
And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 190 

And now was dropt into the western bay. 
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : 
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 



NOTES. 



ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES. 



Abbott, Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar (1888); C, Comus ; Cent. 
Diet., The Century Dictionary ; Class. Diet., — any good Classical Dic- 
tionary will serve, but perhaps Gayley's Classic Myths will best suit the 
needs of secondary students; F. Q., Spenser's Faerie Qneene ; II P., II 
Penseroso ; UAL, H Allegro ; Lye, Lycidas ; Nat., On the Morning of 
Christ's Nativity ; New Eng. Diet., The New English Dictionary ; P. 
L., Paradise Lost ; P. R., Paradise Regained ; R. of L., Shakspere's 
Rape of Lucrece ; S. A., Samson Agonistes ; Schmidt, Schmidt's Shakes- 
peare-Lexicon (1886); Stand. Diet., The Standard Dictionary ; V. and 
A., Shakspere's Venus and Adonis. The following abbreviations of the 
names of Shakspere's plays will be easily understood : A. Y. L., Cor., 
Cymb., Ham., Hen. V, 2 Hen. VI, 3 Hen. VI, Hen. VIII, Lear, L. L. 
L., Macb., M. N D., M. of V, Much Ado, M. W., Oth., R. and /., 
Rich. II, Rich. Ill, T. A., Temp., T G. of V, T. N, T. of S., W. T. 
The references to Shakspere's works are all to the " Globe " edition ; 
those to Milton's works are to Masson's " Library Edition." 



NOTES. 



L'ALLEGRO. 

L' Allegro and II Penseroso, owing to their close relation in form 
and matter, should be read together. Although they were not printed 
until 1645, tne y seem to have been written much earlier, probably about 
1632 or 1633, at Horton, where Milton had retired from Cambridge after 
taking his M.A. degree. The titles are from the Italian, and imply 
" the cheerful man " and "the thoughtful man." Much discussion has 
arisen among editors and critics as to the import of these poems, which 
the want of space prevents us from considering. Perhaps, after all, it 
will be best for the student to work out his own theory of the matter, 
and then correct and supplement it by consulting the Introduction to 
this and the standard editions. Milton, in the composition of these 
poems, seems to have been indebted for a few slight hints and sugges- 
tions, in addition to those pointed out in the notes, to some verses 
entitled The .Author's Abstract of Melancholy, prefixed to Burton's 
Anatomy of Melancholy, and to a song beginning " Hence, all you vain 
delights," in Fletcher's play of The Nice Valour. 

1 2. Cerberus. Who was Cerberus ? In classical mythology Erebus 
was the spouse of Night, but Milton, in order to have Melancholy inspire 
horror and repulsion, invented the present genealogy. 

1 3. Stygian cave. The den of Cerberus was on the further bank 
of the Styx, the chief river of the nether world, and in front of it were 
landed all the shades ferried over by Charon. Browne takes Stygian 
here in the sense of " detested." For Styx, cf P. L. ii. 577 ; also 
Stygian darkness, C. 132. 

1 4. Shapes. Cf II P. 6, C. 207. When we note the indefiniteness 
of the images in this line, we recall that marvelous description of Death 
in P. L. ii. 666-673, and Coleridge's remark in his Lectures and Notes 
on Shakspere (Bohn ed.), p. 91 : "The grandest efforts of poetry are 

59 



60 NOTES. 

where the imagination is called forth, not to produce a distinct form, 
but a strong working of the mind, still offering what is still repelled, 
and again creating what is again rejected ; the result being what the 
poet wishes to impress, namely, the substitution of a sublime feeling 
of the unimaginable for a mere image." In the present line the allitera- 
tion is also suggestive. 

1 5. Uncouth. Radically it means "not known, not familiar, strange, 
and hence perplexing, filling the soul with dismal apprehensions " 
(Schmidt) ; elsewhere {Lye. 186, P. L. v. 98, vi. 362) Milton seems to 
have had in mind both the radical and the derived meanings of the 
word. For the latter, see Cent. Diet. 

1 6. Brooding. If taken literally, with an allusion in jealous wings 
to " the watch which fowls keep when they are sitting" (Warburton), 
we should expect her instead of his, but brooding rather means " over- 
shadowing," and his is then accounted for by supposing that Milton had 
in mind the classical Erebus (Hales). Of what is Darkness jealous ? 

1 7. Night-raven. Probably the ill-omened raven is meant, al- 
though it is not a night bird. Cf Much Ado ii. 3. 84. 

1 9. Ragged. Rugged, uneven. Though used but once in Milton's 
poetry, the word is elsewhere not infrequently found as an epithet for 
rocks ; cf. Isaiah ii. 21, 71 G. of V. i. 2. 121, etc. 

1 10. Cimmerian desert. " She [the ship] came to the limits of the 
world, to the deep-flowing Oceanus. There is the land and the city of 
the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist and cloud, and never does the shining 
sun look down on them with his rays, neither when he climbs up the 
starry heavens, nor when again he turns earthward from the firmament, 
but deadly night is outspread over miserable mortals." — Odyssey xi. 
13-19 (Butcher and Lang). They were " known afterwards as a histor- 
ical people, figuring round and near the Black Sea (whence the name 
Crimed) " (Masson). Dark is added for emphasis. What means has 
Milton employed in the first ten lines to give us such a repugnant picture 
of Melancholy? 

1 11. Fair and free. Almost a set phrase among poets to denote 
beauty and grace in women. In this case, however, free may mean 
"free from care "; cf. 13, also Oth. iii. 3. 340. Why do we have a dif- 
ferent meter here ? 

1 12. Yclept. Called; see Lounsbury, Hist, of Eng. Lang., pp. 

3 8 7-39°- 

1 15. Two sister Graces. See Class. Diet, for the names and attri- 
butes of the three Graces. The parentage here (14-16) given is found 



NOTES. 61 

in a comment by Servius on sE7ieid i. 720 (Keightley), while the one 
that follows (17-24) is, perhaps, Milton's own invention. 

1 16. Ivy-crowned Bacchus. See Class. Diet. ; cf. C. 54-55. 

1 17. Or whether, etc. Note the change in construction here, — 
rather frequent in Milton. 

As some sager sing. If, as seems probable, this alternative gene- 
alogy is the invention of Milton, the present phrase seems to be a 
device for modestly recommending it to others, — at any rate no one 
has yet discovered who these sager poets are. How do you parse sager ? 

1 18. Frolic. Frolicsome ; cf. C. 59. Breathes is used transitively. 

1 20. A-Maying. For the explanation of this form, consult the 
New Eng. Diet., s.v. A, prep. This is one of the many allusions in 
English prose and poetry to the May festivities, for an account of 
which see Chambers, Book of Days. 

2 22. Fresh-blown roses, etc. Cf. T. of S. ii. 1. 174. 

2 24. Buxom, blithe, and debonair. Distinguish ; note word ori- 
gins. Observe the different arrangement of the words in Thomas 
Randolph's Aristippus (1635): "To make one blithe, buxome, and 
deboneer " (quoted by Todd). 

2 26-2S. Jest, etc. .Consult a good dictionary and write a note on 
these lines, explaining Milton's nice distinctions. Wreathed is a trans- 
ferred epithet ; wanton here means "playful." Look up etymology of 
wanton. 

2 28. . Nods and becks, etc. Do you suppose Milton thought out 
this combination, or did he remember the line quoted by Warton from 
Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy ? " With becks, and nods, and smiles 
again." 

2 29. Hebe. See Class. Diet. • cf C. 290. 

2 31. Derides. Subject? 

2 32. Laughter, etc. Addison thought this " a very poetical figure 
of laughter " ; cf. Cymb. i. 6. 6S-69. 

2 33. Come, and trip it, etc. Cf. Temp. iv. 1. 44-47, C. 143-144, 
960-962 ; contrast // P. 37 et seq. Fantastic, because the movements 
of the dance are to be whimsical and capricious. How many different 
functions has the pronoun it, and which one of these is here illustrated ? 

2 36. Mountain-nymph. " I suppose Liberty is called the mountain 
nymph, because the people in mountainous countries have generally 
preserved their liberties longest, as the Britons formerly in Wales, and 
the inhabitants in the mountains of Switzerland at this day" (Newton). 
" Or does he refer to the absence of conventional restraints and general 



62 NOTES. 

sense of unconfinement that belong to mountains ? " (Hales). Or does 
he, as Warton thought, merely mean to call Liberty an Oread, a nymph 
of mountains and grottos ? If the last, the poet is again modifying 
ancient mythology to suit his pleasure, for, as Hales reminds us, " No 
such nymph is found amongst the acknowledged Oreads and Oro- 
demniads of the Greeks." Why in thy right hand? 

2 38. Crew. Milton uses this word twenty-one times in his poems, 
and, with the exception of its use in this line, always in a bad sense. 
Cf C. 653, 805, P. L. i. 51, 477, 688, 751, etc. 

2 40. Unreproved. Unreprovable; cf. C. 395, 793, and see Abbott, 
§ 375. The arrangement of the adjectives in this line is imitated from 
the Greek, and is a common device in Milton. Make a list of the 
examples found in the poems in this volume, and try to ascertain 
the force of the final adjective in each case. 

2-3 41-68. " This passage," says Trent, "... describes by a series 
of exquisite though unelaborated pictures the pleasures of a cheerful 
man abroad early on a delightful morning. It is plain . . . that Milton 
is describing an ideal day, rather than one belonging to a particular 
season. Minute critics have succeeded in showing that some of the 
pictures are not entirely true to nature ; but they waste their time, 
for Milton has surely imbibed nature's spirit, and his poem lives, as all 
true poetry does, by the spirit rather than by the letter." But is it 
best to cloak these faults ? Is it not better to say that Milton's work 
has lived in spite of, rather than because of, them ? The highest art 
assuredly excludes them, and in Milton's finest passages there are no 
blemishes of any sort. 

2-3 41-44, 57-76. With these lines Van Dyke compares the last 
seventeen lines of the fourth stanza of Tennyson's Ode to Memory, 
and observes : " Here are the same breadth of vision, delicacy of 
touch, atmospheric effect ; the same sensitiveness to the simplest 
variations of light and sound ; the same power to shed over the quiet 
scenery of the English country the light of an ideal beauty. It is an 
art far beyond that of the landscape painter, and all the more perfect 
because so well concealed." — Poetry of Tennyson (sec. ed.), p. 62. 

2 42. The dull night. Cf. Hen. V. iv. 1. 11. One editor notes 
that II Penseroso could not have used the epithet dull so appropriately 
as L' Allegro. Why not ? 

2 43. From his watch-tower. " The lark sees the dawn sooner 
than the dull night which grovels on the earth, because he is high up in 
his ' watchtower ' " (Elton). Is -tower one or two syllables here ? 



NOTES. 63 

2 44. The dappled dawn. Cf. Much Ado v. 3. 25-27. Pronounce 
dappled. 

2 45. Then to come, etc. This passage is obscure. (1) It may 
mean that the lark is to come to L'Allegro's window and bid him 
" good-morrow." In this case we must make to come and bid depend on 
to hear (41), and suppose that the unusual to before come is made nec- 
essary by the distance between it and the governing verb. But such 
a construction is awkward. The interpretation, moreover, forces us to 
make the phrase in spite of sorrow almost meaningless by applying it to 
the lark ; it makes it difficult, to account for L' Allegro seeing the per- 
formance of the cock described below (51-52) ; and, finally, obliges us 
to suppose Milton ignorant of the lark's habits, since the bird never 
approaches human habitations, — an ignorance we are not justified in 
assuming if the passage can be explained in some other way. (2) 
Another interpretation makes to come and bid depend on admit (38). 
" Awakened by the' lark, the poet, after listening to that early song, 
arises to give a blithe good-morrow at his window. Other matin 
sounds are heard, and he goes forth," etc. (Browne). Those who 
adopt this view explain that he bids " good-morrow " to " the rising 
morn," " the new day," or " the world in general." (3) Masson, how- 
ever, thinks that L' Allegro is already out of doors. " Milton, or who- 
ever the imaginary speaker is, asks Mirth to admit him to her company 
and that of the nymph Liberty, and to let him enjoy the pleasures nat- 
ural to such companionship (38-40). He then goes on to specify such 
pleasures, or to give examples of them. The first (41-44) is that of the 
sensations of early morning, when, walking round a country cottage, 
one hears the song of the mounting skylark, welcoming the signs of 
sunrise. The second is that of coming to the cottage window, looking 
in, and bidding a cheerful good-morrow, through the sweet-briar, vine, 
or eglantine, to those of the family who are also astir." This last 
interpretation is perhaps more in keeping with the good-hearted socia- 
bility of L' Allegro's character. But see Pattison, Milton, p. 23. 

2 45. In spite of sorrow. Out of spite towards sorrow. In spite 
of usually means " notwithstanding " ; see Schmidt. Masson hints at 
" a subtle reference to some recent grief that had been in the special 
cottage in view." 

2 47-48. Sweet-briar . . . eglantine. " As these are now, with 
strict botanists, names for the same plant [Rosa rubigenosa), Warton 
supposes that by ' the twisted eglantine ' Milton meant the honeysuckle ; 
Mr. Keightley, more accurately, suggests the dog-rose {Rosa canind). 



64 NOTES. 

. . . Popularly, several of the smaller-flowered kinds of wild-rose, 
besides the sweet-briar, are still called eglantine" (Masson). "A 
close observer of things around us would not speak of the eglantine 
as twisted " (Pattison). 

2 50. Scatters the rear, etc. Name and explain the figure. What 
does thin limit? 

3 52. Stoutly struts, etc. What does Milton try to effect by the 
rhythm of this line? Contrast with that of 1. 51. 

3 53. Oft listening, etc. The bounds of the poet's pleasures now 
begin to enlarge. Pronounce listening, slumbering (54). 

3 55. Some hoar hill. Can you think of more than one meaning 
for the epithet hoar ? 

3 56. The high wood. Explain. LI. 55-56 "may mean either that 
the music of hound and horn echoes shrill through the high wood on 
the hillside, or that the huntsmen and dogs begin on the hillside and 
then go ' echoing ' through the ' high wood.' . . . The latter interpre- 
tation seems the more poetical, as the elements of time and motion are 
introduced ; it also throws an ictus on ' high ' that improves the verse 
metrically " (Trent). 

3 57. Walking, not unseen. " Happy men love witnesses of their 
joy : the splenetic love solitude " (Hurd, quoted by Todd). Contrast 
// P. 65. Browne reminds us that " Some particulars of the following 
description of morning are taken from Browne's Britannia's Pastorals 
(Book IV, v. 75)." 

3 59. The eastern gate. Cf. M. N. D. hi. 2. 391. Right against, 
etc., modifies walking, and implies that L'Allegro has his course directed 
toward the rising sun. Elton comments on " the magnificent sound " 
of 11. 59-62. " Milton once or twice in these two poems," he says, 
" seems to quit the tone of gracious fantasy which he has laid down 
for them, and to ' somewhat loudly sweep the string.' But the fanciful 
word ' liveries ' brings him back again." 

3 60. His state. " His stately progress " (Keightley), referring of 
course to the gorgeousness of the spectacle. 

3 62. In thousand liveries dight. " Liveries seems to be plainly 
used of the clouds because they are regarded as servants or attendants 
of the sun, not because of the various hues displayed " (Trent). Look 
up the history of the word, and cf. M. of V. ii. 1. 2. Dight, arrayed. Cf 
II P. 159. Explain the figure in thousand. 

3 65-68. And the milkmaid, etc. What do you notice about the 
movement of these lines ? How is this effect secured ? 



NOTES. 65 

3 67. Tells his tale. Counts the number of his sheep (Warton, on 
the suggestion of Headley). For tell meaning "count," and tale mean- 
ing " number," see Psalm xlviii. 12, Exodus v. 8, though it must be con- 
fessed that when tell and tale are combined, as in the present passage, 
"the almost invariable meaning is to narrate something" (Keightley). 
In view of this last fact, tells his tale is also interpreted as " relates his 
story," — tale being taken either in the general sense of "any story" 
or in the particular sense of " a love-tale." " But (1) this [particular 
sense] would be a somewhat abrupt use of the word tale. (2) The 
every shows that some piece of business is meant. (3) The context 
too shows that. (4) The early dawn is scarcely the time for love- 
making. Some of these objections, but not all, are obviated by tak- 
ing tale in a general sense " (Hales). Do you think of any modern 
uses of the words tell and tale which help to explain the passage ? 

3 69. Straight. Straightway. These new pleastires belong to a 
later hour than those described in the preceding lines. Of 11. 69-80 
Palgrave writes : " This is perhaps as near a landscape in words — and 
those words always the words — as one can find anywhere : Nature by 
herself, no sympathy with man suggested ; Yet note how the one final 
imaginative phrase in its utter loveliness transports us at once within 
the sphere of human feeling." — See Landscape in Poetry, pp 158-159. 

3 70. Landskip. The first and second editions have lantskip 
(Masson). Read this line so as to show the antecedent of it. 
What does round limit ? 

3 71. Russet lawns, etc. " Lawn now commonly means a stretch 
of green grass in front of a mansion ; but the epithet ' russet ' (reddish) 
shows that Milton . . . understood it rather in its original sense of 
land or laund, any open space, even if moory. . . . A fallow is a piece 
of ploughed land left unsown " (Masson). Verity has a long note in 
which he tries to show that russet lawns and fallows grey " mean 
much the same thing, and that Milton is thinking of the ' ash-coloured ' 
appearance presented by a hill-side where the grass is short and poor 
of quality." With what are lawns, fallows, mountains, etc., in 
apposition ? 

3 73. Mountains. See Milton 's Poetical Works (Masson), Vol. I. pp. 
132-133, for a splendid comment on the visionary scenery of VAl. and 
77 P. There are no mountains in the vicinity of Horton, where Milton 
probably wrote these poems. 

3 74. Labouring clouds. Why the epithet ? 

3 75. Meadows trim, etc. For trim, cf II P. 50, C. 120 ; for daisies 



66 NOTES. 

pied, see the fine lines in Z. Z. Z. v. 2. 904-907. Note the position of 
the adjectives in 11. 71, 75, 76, 126, etc. 

3 77. Towers and battlements. These, says Masson, " are almost 
evidently Windsor Castle." 

3 79. Lies. Lodges, dwells ; cf Cor. i. 9. 82. 

3 80. Cynosure. An object to which all eyes are turned ; a meta- 
phorical meaning. The word (which literally means " dog's tail," 
Kvvbs ovpa) was anciently applied to that part of the Lesser Bear which 
contains the pole-star, because it was- then thought that constellation 
resembled a dog. It was by this constellation that the Phoenician 
mariners steered their course, while the Greek mariners steered by the 
Greater Bear. Cf. C. 341-342. 

4 83-8S. Corydon and Thyrsis . . . Phillis . . . Thestylis. Names 
of frequent occurrences in pastoral poetry, here applied, somewhat incon- 
gruously perhaps, to English rustics. Note the time of day indicated 
in these lines. 

4 89. If the earlier season lead. Lead is probably used intransi- 
tively. She goes may be understood with 1. 90. 

4 90. Tanned haycock. Why tanned? 

4 91. Secure. Not "safe," but "free from care" (Latin securus). 
Browne quotes Ben Jonson, Epode : " Men may securely sin, but safely 
never." Here, as in 1. 69, the scene is shifted and a new paragraph 
begun. 

4 92. Upland hamlets. " Little villages among the slopes, away 
from the river-meadows and the haymaking" (Masson). Contrast 
towered cities, 117. 

4 94. Rebeck. " A loud and harsh lute-shaped medieval musical 
instrument, the earliest form of the violin, with one, two, or three 
strings, and played with a bow " {Stand. Diet). For some interesting 
facts about the instrument, see Verity. It may be worth noting that 
Shakspere calls one of the musicians in R. and J. (iv. 5. 135) Hugh 
Rebeck. What is really jocund ? 

4 96. Chequered shade. Explain ; cf. T. A. ii. 3. 15. 

4 97. Come. What part of the verb ? 

4 98. Sunshine holiday. Cf. C. 959. 

4 100. Spicy nut-brown ale. Hales thinks with Warton that this is 
the " gossips' bowl " of Shakspere {cf M. JV. D. ii. 1. 47), a drink made 
up of " ale, nutmeg, sugar, toast, and roasted crabs or apples." 

4 102. Mab. See the description of her in R. and f. i. 4. 53-95 ; 
also the one in Ben Jonson's The Satyr. Junkets, sweetmeats, dainties. 



NOTES. 67 

Originally the word (from Ital. guincatd) meant " a cream cheese," so 
called because it was served on rushes (Ital. guinco, a rush). " Of 
course Queen Mab eat the junkets to punish the inmates of the house 
for untidiness " (Verity). 

4 103. She. One of the persons telling stories. She relates an 
experience she has had with the fairies, who pinched and pulled her, 
it may be, for untidy work. 

4 104. And he, etc. And he, i.e., the one who had once been led by 
the Friar's lantern, tells how, etc. A second interpretation connects 1. 
104 with 1. 103 : She said she was pinched and pulled, and he said he 
was led by Friar's lantern. L. 105 would then begin a new story, the 
verb tells having for its subject he understood. Browne suggests " a 
colon at led and would read Tales for Tells in line 105, thus carrying 
on the sense from stories (line 101) to tales (line 105)." If the reading 
in the second edition, And by the Friar's lajztern led, were adopted, 
the speaker throughout would be the same, i.e., she in 1. 103. The 
latter is defended by Verity ; to me, however, the first interpretation 
seems the most natural. 

4 104. Friar's lantern. Keightley, followed by several editors, 
charges Milton with having confused two different spirits ; Friar Rush, 
the house-spirit, and Will-o'-the-Wisp or Jack-o'-the-Lanthorn, the field- 
spirit. But Verity says : " It is possible however that Milton is not 
referring to either spirit, but that friar of 1. 104 is identical with the 
goblin {i.e., Robin Goodfellow) of 1. 105. For two reasons : (i) friar 
was a title of Robin Goodfellow. . . . (ii) The trick of misleading 
with a false light was not confined to Jack-o'-the-Lanthorn." 

4 105. Drudging goblin. Robin Goodfellow, the Puck of Shakspere. 
A comparison of Milton's lines with Shakspere's description of Puck 
in M. N. D. ii. 1. 42-57, however, will show that the two poets had 
quite different conceptions of the sprite. For an extended account of 
the pranks of Robin Goodfellow, consult Keightley, Fairy Mythology, 
or Brand, Popular Antiquities of Great Britain. 

4 111. Chimney. Fireplace. 

4 113. Crop-full. With full stomach ; see 106. Flings, dashes. 

5 114. Matin. Cf P. L. v. 7. 

5 115. To bed they creep. Why creep ? 

5 117. Towered cities please us then. " The rest of the poem, from 
this point onward, may be taken as describing the evening reveries, 
readings, and other recreations, of the imaginary youth in his country- 
cottage, after his morning's walk and afternoon among the rustics. 



63 NOTES. 

The word then in this line, as elsewhere in the poem, does important 
duty " (Masson). But Hales says : "then (not when the tales are over 
and the tellers in bed, but) = at some other time. He is not describ- 
ing one long day, but the pleasure which one day or another might 
entertain L'Allegro." Verity follows Hales, and supposes that L' Allegro 
"actually takes part in these gay meetings and festivities" (i 17-134). 
For a good defense of Masson's interpretation, however, see Trent. 
Note the new turns given the thought in 11. 131 and 135. 

5 120. Weeds. Garments ; the original meaning of the word. Cf. C. 
16, 189, 390. Triumphs, "a public festivity or exhibition of any kind, 
particularly a tournament " (Schmidt). In Bacon's Essay Of Masques 
and Triumphs, there is the following treatment of triumphs: " For justs, 
and tourneys, and barriers, the glories of them are chiefly in the chariots, 
wherein the challengers make their entry, especially if they be drawn 
with strange beasts, as lions, bears, camels, and the like ; or, in the 
devices of their entrance, or in bravery of their liveries, or in the goodly 
furniture of their horses and armour." 

5 121. Store of. Plenty of, many. 

5 122. Rain influence. Influence here refers to the astrological 
belief that the stars have an occult power over the affairs of men ; in 
this case, of course, the eyes of the ladies are compared to stars. Cf 
Nat. 71. Explain the construction in 122-123. 

5 125. Hymen. Warton refers to Ben Jonson's Masque, Hymenal: 
" On the other hand, entered Hymen (the god of marriage) in a saffron- 
colour'd robe, his under vestures white, his socks yellow, a yellow veil 
of silk on his left arm, his head crowned with roses and marjoram, in 
his right hand a torch of pine-tree." See last scene of A. Y. L. 

5 127. Pomp. "A festival procession" (Schmidt). Revelry; Min- 
sheu defines revels as " sports of dauncing, masking, comedies, tragedies, 
and such like, used in the king's house, the houses of court, or of other 
great personages " (quoted by Todd). 

5 128. With mask and antique pageantry. Explain. 

5 130. Haunted. " By the water-nymphs " (Verity). 

5 131-134. Then to the well-trod stage, etc. " In those days Milton 
had no more of the Puritanic aversion to the theatre . . . than to the 
pomps and solemnities of cathedral ritual." — Garnett, Milton, p. 45. 
Cf. II P. 155-166. 

5 132. Jonson's learned sock. The sock (Latin soccus, the low-heeled 
shoe or slipper worn by comic actors in the ancient Greek and Roman 
drama) is here used for " comedy," just as the buskined stage (the buskin 



NO TES. 69 

was the high-heeled boot worn by ancient tragic actors) is used in 77 P. 
(102) for "tragedy." At the time VAl. was written, Jonson was poet 
laureate, and had finished most of the work which entitled him to his 
high rank among the giants of the Elizabethan age. No characteristic 
is so generally accorded to him as that of learning, and hence Milton's 
adjective is as appropriate as Chaucer's "moral Gower " (Troilus v. 
1856). What the poet says of Shakspere, however, is not so well put. 
It is all well enough to speak of the man as sweetest Shakespeare, for he 
was both the gentlest and the sweetest of mankind, and, taking Fancy 
in the larger meaning it x then had, even Fancy's child may be admitted, 
but to characterize Shakspere's comedies (I see no reason for suppos- 
ing that Milton is referring to only a part of them) as " native wood- 
notes wild," is to accord to him praise that is altogether inadequate. 
Despite what has been said by critics in favor of the present passage, 
and despite the lines On Shakespeare (1630), in which he praises 
principally the dramatist's spontaneity, both his sneer at Charles I. 
for reading Shakspere (see Eikonoklastes) and his Preface to S. A. 
justify us in doubting whether Milton at any time in his life actually 
appreciated the real greatness of Shakspere. 

Milton's lines On Shakespeare, which should be compared with 
Jonson's tributes in the First Folio and Ti?nber, are as follows: 

" What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones 
The labour of an age in piled stones ? 
Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid 
Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? 
Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, 
What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? 
Thou in our wonder and astonishment 
Hast built thyself a livelong monument. 
For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, 
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart 
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book 
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, 
Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, 
Dost make 11s marble with too much conceiving, 
And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie 
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die/' 

5 135. Eating cares. Cf. Horace's mordaces sollicitudines {Odes i. 
18. 4) and curas edaces {Odes ii. 11. 18). Contrast 11. 135-150 with II F. 
161-166. 



70 NOTES. 

5 136. Lydian airs. Music now takes the place of reading, and it is 
quite natural that L'Allegro should prefer the soft Lydian airs to the 
Dorian or the Phrygian. For the Dorian mood, see P. L. i. 550-559. 

5 137. Married to immortal verse. Cf. the opening lines of At a 
Solemn Music ; also C. 516. The present passage is one among many 
in Milton's poems where music is " married to immortal verse." 

5 139. Bout. Bend, turn ; sometimes used of a serpent's coils. 
How is the word now used ? On this and the following line, see Cole- 
ridge, Lectures and Notes on Shakspere (Bohn ed.), p. 49, Garnett, 
Milton, p. 156 et seq. 

5 141. With wanton heed, etc. ' The adjectives describe the 
appearance, the nouns the reality" (Browne). The figure is an oxy- 
moron ; consult a dictionary and explain. 

5 142. Melting voice. Why the epithet ? 

5 144. The hidden soul, etc. "In every soul — indeed in all 
creation — there is harmony, but for the most part it lies imprisoned and 
bound, so that it cannot be heard. The sweetness of the music described 
in the text is to be such that it shall set free this prisoner, and make its 
voice audible " (Hales). 

6 145. Orpheus. For the beautiful legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, 
see Class. Diet. Cf. LI P. 105-108, Lye. 58-63, P. L. vii. 34-37. 

6 146. Golden slumber. Why is the epithet so effective ? 

6 147. Elysian flowers. Cf. P. L. iii. 359. Where did ancient 
mythology locate the Elysian fields ? Which of these places best 
suits the present passage ? 

6 149. To have quite set free. Why quite ? "In our older English 
writers, as in our modern colloquial language, the perfect infinitive is 
used to express a result or a purpose which has not been attained " 
(Hales). 

6 151-152. These delights, etc. Cf the last two lines of Marlowe's 
exquisite lyric, The Passionate Shepherd to His Love : 

" If these delights thy mind may move, 
Then live with me, and be my love." 

Read Marlowe's poem, together with Sir Walter Raleigh's answer to 
the same, called The Nymph'' s Reply. 



NOTES. 71 



IL PENSEROSO. 

7 1. Hence, etc. Milton may have remembered the following lines 
from Sylvester, Tragedie of Henry the Great : 

" Hence, hence, false Pleasures, momentary Joyes : 
Mock us no more with your illuding Toyes." 

7 2. Without father. " And therefore ' all mother,' as we say, or 
pure folly" (Rolfe). Cf the parentage given Melancholy in UAL 

7 3. Bested. Bestead, help, avail ; cf. Shakspere's use of stead, R. 
and f. ii. 3. 54. 

7 4. Fixed mind. Cf P. I. i. 97 ; F. Q. iv. 7. 16 : " Yet nothing 
could my fixed mind remove." Toys, trifles. 

7 5. Idle brain. Opposed tofxed mind, above. Idle is here used 
in its original sense of " empty " (A. S. Idel) ; cf the use of the word in 
that fine Old English poem, The Wanderer, 87 : " eald ^nta geweorc 
Idlu stodon." 

7 6. Fond. Foolish ; the meaning most common in Shakspere. 
See Schmidt ; cf C 67, Lye. 56, S. A. 812, etc. 
x7 7. As thick, etc. Cf Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, D. 868 : " As 
thikke as motes in the sonne-beem." 

7 9. Likest. Explain the force of likest ; cf C 237. 

7 10. Pensioners. Retinue ; this metaphorical use was given cur- 
rency, if it was not, as Warton suggests, originated by Queen Elizabeth's 
establishment of a select guard called Pensioners. Cf M. N. D. ii. 1. 
10, M. W. ii. 2. 79. For Morpheus, see Class. Diet. 

7 12. Melancholy. Here the word stands for " pensive contem- 
plation." 

7 14. To hit. To meet, to agree with. 

7 15. Our weaker view. Cf. Exodus xxxiv. 29-35. 

7 IS. Prince Memnon's sister. Milton may refer to Hemera, men- 
tioned by Dictys Cretensis, De Bella Trojano, lib. vi. c. 10. As 
Odysseus describes Eurypylus as the comeliest man he ever saw, 
next to goodly Memnon (Keivov brj koWlgtov tdov [mcto. Mefxvova 8tov, 
Odys. xi. 522), the poet probably supposes that Memnon's sister, 
although we are nowhere so told, was no less beautiful. 

7 19. Starred Ethiop queen. Cassiope, wife of Cepheus, and 
mother of Andromeda. In consequence of her boast (another story has 
it that she claimed her daughter was fairer than the Nereids), the nymphs 



72 NOTES. 

sent a sea-monster to ravage the coast of Ethiopia, and Andromeda was 
about to be sacrificed to this monster when she was rescued by Perseus. 
As Cassiope was afterwards placed among the stars, Milton uses the 
epithet starred. See Class. Did. ; read Charles Kingsley's Andromeda. 

7 23. Bright-haired Vesta. Milton again invents a genealogy to 
suit his own purposes. He perhaps regards Saturn as the type of 
Solitude, and Vesta as the type of Chastity, thus making Melancholy 
the daughter of Chastity and Solitude. Warton, however, identifies 
Vesta with Genius, and Browne supposes that Vesta, or Hestia, the 
goddess of the hearth, is here the symbol of Retirement, while Saturn, 
the promoter of civilization, represents Culture. For Saturn, see Class. 
Diet., and by all means read at least the opening lines of Keats's Hype- 
rion, — a poem which Shelley (Preface to Adonais) considered "as 
second to nothing that was ever produced by a writer of the same 
years." 

8 29. Woody Ida. Probably the mountain of that name in the 
island of Crete is meant. Cf. P. L. i. 515. 

8 30. No fear of Jove. Jupiter led in the dethronement of his 
father. See Class. Diet. ; also on C 20. What is the force of yet in 
this line ? What other meanings has it ? 

8 32. Demure. See the first of the two meanings in Stand. Diet. 
Contrast this line with VAl. 24. 

8 33. All in a robe, etc. All may be either an adjective or an ad- 
verb. Grain, dye, color, not texture ; perhaps the color intended is dark 
purple. For a lengthy discussion of grain, see Marsh, Lectures on the 
English Language (First Series), and Masson's note to P. L. v. 285. 
Cf. C. 750, P. L. xi. 242. 

8 35. Stole of cypress lawn. Stole, veil or hood (as in F. Q. i. 1. 
4) ; note the stola, or long, flowing robe of the Roman lady. Cypress 
lawn, crape ; but the words are usually distinguished, as in W. T. iv. 
4. 220-221. 

8 36. Decent. Probably the word here means " comely," " hand- 
some," though Warton (quoted by Todd) explains it as " Not exposed, 
therefore decent ; more especially, as so covered." In the Deserted 
Village, 12, Goldsmith has : "The decent church that topt the neigh- 
bouring hill." 

8 37. Thy wonted state. State, dignity of deportment. Warton 
quotes Ben Jonson, Cynthia's Revels, v. 3 : 

" Seated in thy silver chair, 
State in wonted manner keep." 



NOTES. 73 

8 39. Commercing. Having intercourse ; perhaps, communing. 

8 42. Forget thyself to marble. See the lines On Shakespeare, 
quoted in note to L'Al. 132. "In both instances, excess of thought 
is the cause " (Warton, quoted by Todd). 

8 43. Sad leaden downward cast. Sad, grave, serious ; cf. C. 1S9. 
" Leaden-coloured eye-sockets betoken melancholy, or excess of thought- 
fulness " (Masson) ; Verity interprets leaden as "gloomy" and Trent 
thinks it refers " not to color . . . but to weight or heaviness." Verity 
compares Sylvester, Du Bartas (Grosart, i. 155): 

" That swallow-fac't, sad, stooping Nymph, whose eye 
Still on the ground is fixed stedfastly." 

8 44. As fast. That is, as fast as they were before fixed on the skies. 
8 46-48. Spare Fast, etc. Cf. Milton's Elegia Sexta 55-66. Here 
is Masson's translation: 

" Ay, but whoso will tell of wars and the world at its grandest, 

Heroes of pious worth, demigod leaders of men, 
Singing now of the holy decrees of the great gods above us, 

Now of the realms deep down, guarded by bark of the dog, 
Sparely let such an one still, in the way of the Samian master, 

Live, and let homely herbs furnish his simple repast ; 
Near him, in beechen bowl, be only the crystal-clear water ; 

Sober draughts let him drink, fetched from the innocent spring-, 
Added to this be a youth of conduct chaste and reproachless, 

Morals rigidly strict, hands without sign of a stain : 
All as when thou, white-robed, and lustrous with waters of cleansing, 

Risest, augur, erect, fronting the frown of the gods." 

The idea which pervades these lines Masson calls "an eminently Mil- 
tonic idea, perhaps pre-eminently the Miltonic idea." He cites C. 
783-789 and a famous passage in the prose Apology for Smectymnuns, 
where it occurs again. 

8 47. Muses. For the names and the attributes of the nine Muses, 
see Class. Diet. 

8 50. Trim gardens. Cf. VAl. 75; also C. 375-380. "Mr. Warton 
here observes, that affectation and false elegance were now carried to 
the most elaborate and absurd excess in gardening" (Todd). At this 
day we prefer the sort of gardens described in P. L. iv. 241-246, 
where 



74 NOTES. 

" not nice Art 
In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon 
Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, 
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote 
The open field, and where the unpierced shade 
Imbrowned the noontide bowers." 

8 52. Golden wing. Cf. C. 214, Death of a Fair Infant 57. Verity 
reminds us that Sylvester had previously applied the epithet to Sleep 
(Grosart, i. 143). 

8 54. The Cherub Contemplation. See Ezekiel x. (also i.), and P. L. 
vi. 749-759- As Verity remarks, "It is well to remember two things: 
(i) Cherub . . . means a single member of the cherubim. . . . (ii) When- 
Milton applies to the Cherub the title Contemplation ... he is referring 
to the mediaeval conception of the Hierarchies. . . . According to it 
each of the Orders or Choirs into which the heavenly beings were divided 
had a special power, and the faculty peculiar to the Cherubim w r as that 
of ' Knowledge and Contemplation of divine things.' . . . Milton took 
the mediaeval belief and grafted it on to the narrative of Ezekiel." The 
meter requires five syllables for Contemplation ; see Browne's Notes on 
Shakspere's Versification (Ginn & Company), third edition, p. 18, an 
excellent little pamphlet to use as an introduction to the study of versi- 
fication. See Modern Language Notes, Vol. XIV. pp. 78-79, for a sum- 
mary of Professor Tolman's paper on " The Poetic Value of Long Words." 

8 55. The mute Silence hist along. That is, bid the mute Silence 
come along by whispering hist. Hist, originally an onomatopoeic inter- 
jection used to enforce silence, is here probably an imperative, although 
Skeat takes it as a past participle, i.e., " bring along with thee the mute, 
hushed Silence." Masson paraphrases : " Move through the mute Silence 
hushingly, or saying Hush ! — i.e., telling the Silence to continue — unless 
the nightingale shall choose to break it by one of her songs." As Silence 
is personified, there is no tautology in adding the epithet mute. Read 
Tennyson's Reticence, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Vol. II. pp. 87-88. 

8 56. 'Less Philomel, etc. Unless the nightingale will grant a song. 
For the story of Philomela, see Class. Diet., and for the finest of all the 
tributes in the English language to the nightingale, read Keats's Ode to 
a Nightingale. 

8 57. Plight. Define. 

9 58. Smoothing, etc. Cf C. 251. 

9 59. Cynthia. See Class. Diet.; in ancient mythology it was Ceres 
whose chariot was drawn by dragons. 



NOTES. 75 

9 60. The accustomed oak. Explain. 

9*61. Sweet bird, etc. See Milton's sonnet to the nightingale, C. 
234, 566, P. L. iii. ■$, iv. 602, 771, vii. 435. Coleridge, in his To the 
Nightingale, quoted 1. 62. 

9 63-72. Thee, chauntress, etc. After quoting UAL 69-80 and 77 P. 
63-72, Palgrave observes : " What we gain from Milton, as these speci- 
mens in his very purest vein — his essence of landscape — illustrate, is 
the immense enlargement, the finer proportions, the greater scope, of his 
scenes from Nature. And with this we have that exquisite style, always 
noble, always music itself — Mozart without notes — in which Milton is 
one of the few very greatest masters in all literature : in company — at 
least it pleases me to fancy — with Homer and Sophocles, with Vergil, 
with Dante, with Tennyson." — See Landscape in Poetry, pp. 158-159. 

9 64. Even-song. Contrast UAL 114. 

9 65. Unseen. Contrast UAL 57. From the fact that unseen is neg- 
atived in UAL, some have supposed that II P. may have been written 
first. The probability is, however, that the two poems were conceived at 
the same time and written in their present order. After quoting 11. 65- 
94, Blair says: "Here there are no unmeaning general expressions; 
all is particular, all is picturesque ; nothing forced or exaggerated ; but 
a simple style, and a collection of strong expressive images, which are 
all of one class, and recall a number of similar ideas of the melancholy 
kind: . . . We may observe, too, the conciseness of the poet's manner. 
He does not rest long on one circumstance, or employ a great many 
words to describe it ; which always makes the impression faint and 
languid ; but placing it in one strong point of view, full and clear before 
the reader, he then leaves it." — Hugh Blair, Lectures on Rhetoric and 
Belles Lettres, Lecture xl. 

9 67. The wandering moon. Keightley cites Horace, Sat. i. 8.. 21 : 
vaga luna, and Virgil, ALn. i. 742 : errantem lunam. If Shakspere were 
living at this hour, he might find reason to congratulate himself on the 
fact that he did not know much Latin. At any rate, no one thinks of 
accusing him of borrowing his wandering moon (cf. M. N. D. iv. 1. 102 ; 
also ii. 1. 6-7) from Virgil or Horace. See what Stedman says about 
imaginative diction, Nature and Elements of Poetry, p. 240 et sea. 

9 68. Her highest noon. Explain. 

9 72. Stooping, etc. What optical illusion is referred to ? 

9 74. Curfew. " A regulation in force in mediaeval Europe by which 
at a fixed hour in the evening, indicated by the ringing of a bell, fires 
were to be covered over or extinguished; . . . Hence, the practice of 



76 NOTES. 

ringing a bell at a fixed hour in the evening, usually eight or nine o'clock, 
continued after the original purpose was obsolete, and often used as a 
signal in connection with various municipal or communal regulations ; 
the practice of ringing the evening bell still survives in many towns " 
{New Eng. Diet.). Look up etymology of word. See on Lye. 154. 

9 75. Some wide-watered shore. Explain. We have here one of 
Milton's finest double epithets, the construction and use of which is 
common in his early poems. " In Covins, which has a few more than 
a thousand lines, there are fifty-four double epithets ; in V Allegro there 
are sixteen to a hundred and fifty lines ; in 77 Penseroso there are eleven 
to one hundred and seventy lines." — Van Dyke, Poetry of Tennyson (sec- 
ond edition), p. 64. Coleridge, who was of the opinion that there is a 
superfluity of double epithets in the early poetry of both Shakspere and 
Milton, gave the following rule for their admission: "either that they 
should be already denizens of our language, such as blood-stained, terror- 
stricken, self-applauding ; or when a new epithet, or one found in books 
only, is hazarded, that it, at least, be one word, not two words made one 
by mere virtue of the printer's hyphen. ... If a writer, every time a com- 
pounded word suggests itself to him, would seek for some other mode of 
expressing the same sense, the chances are always greatly in favour of 
his finding a better word." — Biographia Literaria (Bohn ed.), p. 2, note. 

9 76. Swinging slow, etc. What poetic effect do you notice in 
this line ? 

9 77. Or, if the air, etc. In UAL the evening indoors did not begin 
until 1. 117. 

9 78. Removed. Remote; cf Ham. i. 4. 61. 

9 80. Teach light, etc. A gloom which only Rembrandt could 
paint. Cf. the famous passage in P. L. i. 62-64, and the hardly less 
famous one in F. Q.'\. 1. 14 : 

" But forth unto the darksom hole he went, 
And looked in : his glistring armor made 
A little glooming light, much like a shade." 

9 82. The cricket on the hearth. A line made famous by Dickens. 
It is now no uncommon thing for an author to find a title for his book 
in some odd phrase of the old poets ; Mr. Howells, for instance, found 
one in Lye. 188. 

9 83. The bellman's drowsy charm. The bellman was a night 
watchman who went his round ringing a bell and crying the time, the 



NOTES. 77 

weather, and so on. Some idea of the drowsy charm may be had from 
Herrick's poem in the Hesperides (Grosart, ii. 2S) : 
I 

" From noise of Scare-fires rest ye free, 

From Murders Benedicitie. 

From all mischances, that may fright 

Your pleasing slumbers in the night : 

Mercie secure ye all, and keep 

The Goblin from ye, while ye sleep. 

Past one aclock, and almost two, 

My Masters all, Good day to you." 

9 S4. Nightly. " During the night, not night by night " (Hales). 

9 85. Or let my lamp, etc. Here II Penseroso passes to the study of 
literature, — philosophy (S8-96), tragedy (97-102), lyric poetry (103-108), 
and romance (109-120). Compare L'Allegro's reading. This passage 
has been a good deal admired, because the poet imagines some far-off 
observer catching sight of the light gleaming from II Penseroso's tower. 

9 87. Outwatch the Bear. " The Great Bear does not set below the 
horizon in northern latitudes, and only vanishes on account of the day- 
light " (Bell). Tennyson makes use of the same idea in his Princess, iv. 
194-195: 

" I paced the terrace, till the Bear had wheel'd 
Thro' a great arc his seven slow suns." 

t 

9 88. Thrice great Hermes. Hermes Trismegistus (i.e., thrice great- 
est) was the Egyptian Thoth, identified by the Greeks with their god 
Hermes or Mercury. He was regarded as the originator of Egyptian 
art, science, magic, alchemy, and religion, and the works attributed to 
him, but really written by the Neoplatonists of the fourth century of 
our era, were much studied. Read Longfellow's Hermes Trismegistus. 

9-10 88-89. Unsphere the spirit of Plato. Draw down the spirit of 
Plato from the sphere in which it now dwells, or, to discard the figure, 
find out by intense study the doctrine embodied in Plato's works. The 
particular allusion is to the PJuzdo and those other portions of Plato's 
works where the doctrine of immortality is treated. See on 85 ; cf. C. 2-4. 

10 90. What worlds, etc. "Are not vast regions included in 
world?'''' (Landor). 

10 93. And of those demons, etc. Explain the zeugma. What 
must be understood after And? As Keightley has observed, Plato 
speaks of the intelligences which he calls daimona, but the assignment 



78 NOTES. 

to them of their abodes in the four elements over which they had power 
belongs to the later Platonists and to the writers of the middle ages. 

10 95. Consent. " Sympathetic connexion " (Masson). 

10 98. Sceptred pall. Either "royal robe" or "with sceptre and 
with pall" (Hales). 

10 99-100. Presenting Thebes, etc. Milton here mentions the chief 
themes of Attic tragedy, having in mind particularly the dramas of 
^schylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. For Thebes, etc., see Class. Diet., 
and for TEschylus, etc., consult some good history of Greek literature 

— Mahaffy's, if at hand. Presenting, representing; so frequently in 
Shakspere. 

10 101-102. Or what, etc. In view of Milton's aversion to the 
romantic drama (see preface to S. A.), it may be that he has in mind 
here the tragedies of Ben Jonson, although it is to be hoped, as most 
editors think, that he includes those of Shakspere. For buskined, see 
on VAl. 132. 

10 104. Musaeus. A mythical poet of Thrace, and according to 
some legends the son of Orpheus. See Class. Diet. " It is always to the 
poets of a primitive age, the bards, that [Milton] compares himself — 
to Homer, Tiresias, and the Hebrew prophets. Orpheus and Musaeus 
are the poets he would best like to see before him in his pensive hours. 
Now in those primitive times the poet was almost an officer of the 
state ; he was regarded with reverence, and classed with the priest or 
diviner. He sang in the halls of Grecian princes, and stirred up the 
warriors to emulate the great deeds of their fathers. In Palestine he 
assumed a still greater elevation, and, mixing the praises of virtue with 
exalted conceptions of God and of the national vocation, became what 
we call a prophet. This was the ideal of poetry which suited Milton." 

— Professor Seeley, Macmillaris Magazine, Vol. XIX. p. 410. See 
Pattison, Milton, pp. 183-184. 

10 106. Warbled to the string. Cf. Arcades S7. 

10 107. Iron tears. Explain. 

10 109. Him that left half-told. Chaucer, who left The Squire's 
Tale unfinished. The characters and incidents mentioned in the follow- 
ing lines should be traced in the.-story itself and in Spenser's continu- 
ation of it (T. Q. iv. 2-3). 

10 110. Cambuscan. Milton gives a wrong accentuation to this 
word. 

10 113. Virtuous. "Powerful, efficacious by inherent qualities" 
(Schmidt). Cf. C 165, 621. For the properties of the ring, see The 



NOTES. 79 

Squire's Tale (Skeat, Student's Chaucer) 146-155; for the glass, 132- 
141 ; for the horse of brass, 115-131 ; and for the sword, which Milton 
does not mention, 156-167. 

10 116. If aught else. "Whatever else"; "a Latinism " (Bell). 
Great bards ; Spenser, first of all, and then, perhaps, Boiardo, Ariosto, 
and Tasso. 

11 120. Where more is meant, etc. That is, where there is an alle- 
gorical meaning, as in the F. Q. In Milton's time allegory was still 
highly prized, but now, although it is occasionally practised, as, for 
instance, in Tennyson's Idylls of the King, it is not so much thought of. 
The modern point of view is well expressed by Lowell, when he says 
that allegory " reverses the true office of poetry by making the real un- 
real. It is imagination endeavoring to recommend itself to the under- 
standing by means of cuts." — Works (Houghton), Vol. III. p. 362. 
" The true type of the allegory is the Odyssey, which we read without 
suspicion as pure poem, and then find a new pleasure in divining its 
double meaning, as if we somehow got a better bargain of our author 
than he meant to give us." — Ibid., Vol. IV. pp. 321-322. There is an 
allegory, by the way, in Milton's own Covins. 

11 121. Thus, Night, etc. Landor thought this verse of ten sylla- 
bles " should be reduced to the ranks." He also noted the rhymes in 
119-122. 

11 122. Civil-suited. In plain civilian dress; cf. R. and f. iii. 2. 
10-11. One of the "epithets which designate dresses and decoration ; 
of which epithets, it must be acknowledged, both Milton and Shakes- 
peare are unreasonably fond" (Landor). Contrast UAL 59-62. 

11 123. Tricked. Adorned; cf Lye. 170. Trounced, with hair curled 
and plaited. 

11 124. The Attic boy. Cephalus, who was loved by Aurora, the 
goddess of dawn. See Class. Diet. 

11 125. Kerchieft. Look up the original meaning of the word, and 
note how this was lost thought of when handkerchief 'was formed. 

11 126. Rocking. " An active verb : the shrill winds rock the 
house " (Elton). 

11 127. Still. Gentle. 

11 128. His. Its ; there is no personification here. At the time 
Milton wrote this poem, its was not yet well established. Shakspere 
used the word but ten times, and Milton only three times in his poetry 
and rarely in his prose. In Old English, or Anglo-Saxon, the personal 
pronouns were highly inflected, the following forms being used in the 



80 NOTES. 

declension of the singular number of the nominative and genitive cases 
of the third person : 



Masc. 


Neut. 


Fem. 


Nom. he (he) 


hit 


heo, hie, hi 


Gen. his 


his 


hiere, hire, hyre 



For a long time his was used for the genitive of both the masculine and 
neuter genders ; its was afterwards formed from the nominative neuter 
by dropping the h and adding s, and served to relieve his of this double 
service. Throughout Milton's poems, therefore, the student should 
guard against finding personifications where none was intended by the 
poet. 

11 130. Minute-drops. Explain. / 

11 134. Brown. Dusky, dark ; see on Lye. 2. Sylvan, Sylvanus, a 
Latin divinity of the fields and forests, whom later writers identified 
with Pan and other deities. 

11 135. Monumental oak. Not because the monuments in churches 
were often formed of carved oak (Keightley), but because the oak is 
monumental in the sense of " memorial, old, telling of bygone years " 
(Masson). Bpowne compares Tennyson's Talking Oak. Chaucer, and 
Spenser after him, speaks of the "builder oak." Pattison asks "if any 
single word can be found, equal to ' monumental ' in its power of sug- 
gesting to the imagination the historic oak of park or chase, up to the 
knees in fern, which has outlasted ten generations of men ; has been 
the mute witness of the scenes of love, treachery, or violence enacted 
in the baronial hall which it shadows and protects ; and has been so 
associated with man that it is now rather a column and memorial obelisk 
than a tree of the forest ? " — Milton, p. 24. 

11 136. Where the rude axe, etc. Note the chiasmus. 

11 140. Profaner. " Somewhat, or at all profane ; = profan-/^, if 
there were such a word " (Hales). 

11 141. Day's garish eye. The sun; look up etymology and 
meaning of garish. Cf. C. 978, Lye. 26, F. Q. i. 3. 4 : " the great eye of 
heaven," and R. and J. iii. 2. 25. 

11 142. Honeyed thigh. What does the bee actually carry on its 
thigh? But cf. Lye. 140. 

11 145. Consort. Companionship, or, perhaps, concert. 

11 146. Dewy-feathered Sleep. Why the epithet ? Cf. P. L. iv. 
614. 



NOTES. 81 

11 147-150. And let some strange, etc. Of all the interpretations of 
this difficult passage, Masson's seems the most reasonable : " ' Let some 
strange mysterious dream wave (i.e. move to and fro) at his (i.e. Sleep's) 
wings, in airy stream,' etc. Wave is a neuter verb here, as in Par. Lost, 
xii. 593." Lively, vivid. 

12 151. Breathe. What part of the verb ? 

12 153. To mortals good. Good to mortals; cf Lye. 184. 

12 154. Genius of the wood. In Arcades, the Genius of the wood 
appears, and makes a long speech, in the course of which he explains 
his duties. 

12 155-166. But let my due feet, etc. " Following his usual prac- 
tice Milton has combined into a single picture suggestions drawn from 
several sources. . . . Thus by selection he paints an aspect of the ideal 
life of the student, whether it be passed at the University or in the 
close of a cathedral. The lines show that in 1633 (or 1634) Milton was 
still in sympathy with the ritual of the Church, though he did not care to 
enter its ranks as a clergyman. But from the prose works written later 
on might be quoted passages that condemn, directly or indirectly, almost 
everything which he here approves " (Verity). 

12 155. Due feet. Explain; cf. C. 12. 

12 156. Cloister's pale. Enclosure of the cloister; cloister's being 
Warton's emendation for cloisters. Landor, however, preferred to keep 
the old reading, and to take pale as an adjective, an interpretation that 
can certainly be defended. The word order would then be one fre- 
quently used by Milton, and the obvious tautology in cloister's pale 
would be avoided. The latter, though, is got rid of in another way, 
by supposing that Milton had in mind a particular cloister, probably 
Cambridge. " Observe : only at this point of the poem is Penseroso in 
contact with his fellow-creatures. Throughout the rest he is solitary " 
(Masson). 

12 157. And love. And let me love; strictly the subject of the verb 
is what? Embowed, arched. 

12 158. Massy-proof. " Proof against the mass they have to sup- 
port " (Masson). But the first and second editions have massy proof 
which Bell interprets as " proof against the great weight of the stone 
roof, because they are massive"; Verity also prints massy proof and 
suggests that "proof may be a noun (in apposition to pillars), with the 
general sense ' solidity.' " No wonder Landor thought the word " an 
inelegant one, and, if a compound, compounded badly. It seems more 
applicable to castles, whose massiveness gave proof of resistance." 



82 NOTES. 

12 159. Storied windows. Windows of stained glass on which are 
pictured scenes from the Bible; cf. C 516. Dig/it; see on VAl. 62. 

12 160. Casnting a dim, etc. " I question whether Milton ever saw 
any but the dingy pictures in the dusty windows of English cathedrals, 
imperfectly shown by the gray English daylight. He would else have 
illuminated that word ' dim ' with some epithet that should not chase 
away the dimness, yet should make it glow like a million of rubies, 
sapphires, emeralds, and topazes." — Hawthorne, Works (Houghton), 
Vol. VI. p. 351. Cf ibid., Vol. X. p. 278. At the time II P. was 
written, Milton had not visited Italy. See Verity's apposite quotation 
from More, Utopia. 

12 161. The pealing organ. The favorite instrument of Milton, 
and on which his father, a noted musician in his time, taught him to 
play; cf. P. L. i. 708-709, xi. 558-563, Nat. 130. In the latter part of 
his Tract on Education (1644), he recommends that the time of students 
after exercise, and before and even after meat, be taken up " in recre- 
ating and composing their travailed spirits with the solemn and divine 
harmonies of music heard or learned, either whilst the skilful organist 
plies his grave and fancied descant in lofty fugues, or the whole sym- 
phony with artful and unimaginable touches adorn and grace the well- 
studied chords of some choice composer; sometimes the lute or soft 
organ-stop, waiting on elegant voices either to religious, martial, or 
civil ditties, which, if wise men and prophets be not extremely out, have 
a great power over dispositions and manners to smooth and make them 
gentle from rustic harshness and distempered passions." — Morley, 
English Prose Writings of Milton, p. 306. 

12 164. As may. Such as may ; cf. Nat. 98. Eor the thought, see 
Vacation Exercise 33-35- 

12 170. Spell. Note the meaning. 

12 171. Shew. For pronunciation, cf. C. 994-997. 

12 175-176. These pleasures, etc. Contrast L'Al. 1 51-152. 



NOTES. 83 



COMUS. 



In order to appreciate Comus, it is necessary to know something of 
the circumstances under which the masque was produced. In the 
summer of 1631, the Earl of Bridgewater was made President of the 
Council of Wales and Lord Lieutenant of North and South Wales and 
of the counties on the Welsh border, although he did not go to Wales, 
it would seem, until the spring of 1633. In the fall of 1634 he was 
inaugurated with splendid ceremonies, and it was for this inauguration 
that Comus was written. The masque was performed at Ludlow Castle 
on Michaelmas night, Sept. 29, 1634, before the Earl of Bridgewater 
and his invited guests. Three of the parts were taken by the Earl's 
children, Lady Alice Edgerton taking the part of The Lady, and 
Viscount Brackley and Mr. Thomas Edgerton, the parts of The First 
and Second Brothers. The Attendant Spirit, afterward Thyrsis, was 
played by Lawes, who wrote the music for the occasion. Who took 
the parts of Comus and Sabrina, we do not know, although a good 
actor was needed for the former and a good singer for the latter. 

It is supposed that Milton wrote Comus early in 1634, so as to have 
it ready for the performance in the fall of that year. Three editions of 
the masque appeared in the poet's lifetime. The first of these was 
issued in 1637 by Lawes, and was published without Milton's name, 
although the motto on the title page — 

Eheu qicid volui miser mihi! floribus Austrum 
Perditus 1 — 
shows that his consent to the publication had been obtained. Milton 
himself published the poem in 1645 an< ^ I &73- ^ n addition to this, there 
are two MS. copies, — one called the Bridgewater MS., and the other, 
in Milton's own hand, called the Cambridge MS. 

In the anonymous edition of 1637, there appeared the following 
dedication, which was reprinted in the edition of 1645, but omitted in 
that of 1673 : 

" To the Right Honourable John, Lord Brackley, son and heir-apparent to the 

Earl of Bridgewater, etcp 
" My Lord, 

" This Poem, which received its first occasion of birth from yourself 
and others of your noble family, and much honour from your own person in the 
performance, now returns again to make a final dedication of itself to you. 

1 Virgil, Eel. ii. 58-59. 



84 NOTES. 

Although not openly acknowledged by the Author, yet it is a legitimate off- 
spring, so lovely and so much desired that the often copying of it hath tired my 
pen to give my several friends satisfaction, and brought me to a necessity of pro- 
ducing it to the public view, and now to offer it up, in all rightful devotion, to 
those fair hopes and rare endowments of your much-promising youth, which give 
a full assurance to all that know you of a future excellence. Live, sweet Lord, 
to be the honour of your name ; and receive this as your own from the hands of 
him who hath by many favours been long obliged to your most honoured Parents, 
and, as in this representation your attendant T/iyrsis, so now in all real ex- 
pression 

" Your faithful and most humble Servant, 

" H. LA WES." 

In the edition of 1645, Dut omitted from that of 1673, appeared "The 
Copy of a Letter written by Sir He)iry Wotton to the Author upon the 
following Poem" the first two paragraphs of which are as follows : 

" From the College, this 13 of April, 1638. 

" Sir, 

" It was a special favour when you lately bestowed upon me here the first 
taste of your acquaintance, though no longer than to make me know that I wanted 
more time to value it and to enjoy it rightly ; and, in truth, if I could then have 
imagined your farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterwards by Mr. 
H., I would have been bold, in our vulgar phrase, to mend my draught (for you 
left me with an extreme thirst), and to have begged your conversation again, 
jointly with your said learned friend, over a poor meal or two, that we might 
have banded together some good Authors of the ancient time ; among which I 
observed you to have been familiar. 

" Since your going, you have charged me with new obligations, both for a very 
kind letter from you dated the 6th of this month, and for a dainty piece of enter- 
tainment which came therewith. Wherein I should much commend the tragical 
part, if the lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Doric delicacy in your Songs 
and Odes, whereunto I must plainly confess to have seen yet nothing parallel in 
our language : Ipsa mollifies. But I must not omit to tell you that I now only 
owe you thanks for intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true artificer. 
For the work itself I had viewed some good while before with singular delight ; 
having received it from our common friend Mr. R., in the very close of the late 
R.'s Poems, printed at Oxford ; whereunto it was added (as I now suppose) that 
the accessory might help out the principal, according to the art of Stationers, and 
to leave the reader con la bocca dolceP 

For the plot of Comus, Milton seems to have drawn upon several 
sources, besides those mentioned in the notes. There is a tradition 
that Alice Edgerton and her two young brothers actually got lost at 



NOTES. 85 

night in Haywood Forest near Ludlow, that the sister became separated 
from the brothers, and that Milton based his masque upon this incident. 
But such a story might very easily have originated after the performance 
of Milton's Comus. On the other hand, it seems that Milton was in- 
debted for some hints regarding the character of Comus to Ben Jon- 
son's masque of Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue and to a Latin play called 
Comus, sive Phagesiposia Cimmeria : Somnium, by a Dutchman, Erycius 
Puteanus, whose real name W T as Hendrik van der Putten ; and for the 
plot itself to George Peele's comedy of The Old Wives'' Tale. 

For the study of the English masque in general, see Ward, History 
of English Dramatic Literature (last edition), Symonds, Shakspere's 
Predecessors in the English Drama, Verity, Milton's Arcades and 
Comus, Sorgel, Die Englische Maskenspiele, etc. 

14 2. Mansion. Abiding-place; cf. II P. 92, John xiv. 2. 

14 3. Insphered. See on // P. 8S-89. 

14 4. Serene. Accented on the first syllable. A general rule of 
Shakspere's, and often of Milton's meter, is that " dissyllabic oxytonical 
adjectives and participles become paroxytonical before nouns accented 
on the first syllable " (Schmidt, p. 1413). See 11. 11, 37, 217, 273, etc. In 
the case of serene, however, Masson thinks he detects "a finer effect in 
the metrical liberty involved in the ordinary pronunciation." 

14 5. Dim spot. Why dim ? 

14 6. And, with. And where they, with ; see 11. 26, 198. 

14 7. Pestered. Clogged, encumbered ; for the probable etymology 
of the word, see Skeat, Etym. Diet. Pinfold, " an enclosure for animals ; 
especially, a cattle-pound " (Stand. Diet.). 

14 9. The Crown that Virtue gives. Cf. Rev. iv. 4. 

14 10. After this mortal change. After the change that comes to 
all mortals, i.e., death; Bell quotes Job xiv. 14. But Masson thinks it 
means " this mortal state of life," " this variation of our condition," or, 
as Rolfe puts it, "After the changes of this mortal life, or this mortal life 
of change "; Browne, on the other hand, says that change " here has its 
old meaning of a figure in a dance." Cf. Shelley, Adonais 71-72 : 

" till darkness and the law 
Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw." 

14 11. Enthroned. Two syllables, with the first accented; cf Rev. 
iv. 4. 

14 12. Be. Indicative here. 

14 13. Golden key. Cf. Lye. no-in, Matt. xvi. 19. 



86 NOTES. 

14 16. Ambrosial weeds. Heavenly garments ; cf. 83. For weeds, 
see on UAL 120; also C. 189, 390. 

14 19. Every . . . each. Every . . . every, or each . . . each are more 
usual; but cf. C. 311, Lye. 93. 

14 20. Took in by lot, 'twixt high and nether Jove. The allusion 
is to the division of rule among Saturn's three sons, Pluto, Neptune, 
and Jupiter. In the Iliad, xv. 190 et sea., Neptune says to Iris: "For 
three brethren are we, and sons of Kronos, whom Rhea bare, Zeus, and 
myself, and Hades is the third, the ruler of the folk in the under-world. 
And in three lots are all things divided, and each drew a domain of his 
own, and to me fell the hoary sea, to be my habitation for ever, when we 
shook the lots : and Hades drew the murky darkness, and Zeus the wide 
heaven, in clear air and clouds, but the earth and high Olympus are yet 
common to all " (Lang, Leaf, and Myers). High and nether Jove (the 
designation is not original with Milton) are of course Jupiter and Pluto. 
On the punctuation of the line, see Masson. 

14 22. Like to rich and various gems. "A noticeable fact about 
the similes [in Milton's poetry] involving nature is the frequency with 
which the nature element appears on the wrong side of the comparison; 
that is, instead of using a natural object to explain or illustrate some- 
thing artificial or human, these elements are inverted. . . . The fact that 
the artificial object is thus enlployed doubtless indicates that, in the 
writer's opinion, it was more familiar or more beautiful than the nat- 
ural object which it is supposed to explain or heighten." — V. P. Squires, 
Mod. Lang. Notes, Vol. IX. p. 234. 

14 23. Unadorned. " How can a bosom be unadorned which already 
is inlaid with gems ? " (Landor). 

15 24. His tributary gods. Explain. 
15 25. Several. Separate. 

15 27. This Isle. Great Britain ; by all means read Shakspere's 
description of "this scepter'd isle " in Rich. II. ii. 1. 40 et seq. 

15 29. Quarters. Divides into four parts ; there were then four 
separate governments in Great Britain, which were located at London 
and Edinburgh, and in Wales and the northern counties of England 
(Keightley). This interpretation seems to be supported by this tract 
(30). Blue-haired deities ; the English people, because, as Masson sug- 
gests, there is "a recollection of 'blue' as the British colour, inher- 
ited from the old times of the blue-stained Britons who fought with 
Caesar." On the other hand, qicarters to may be taken in the general 
sense of " divides among," and blue-haired deities may be nothing but a 



NOTES. 87 

variation of tributary gods (24) or possibly a special section of them. 
The epithet blue-haired might then be justified because " Ovid ex- 
pressly calls the sea-deities caerulei dii, and Neptune caeruleus deus, 
thus associating blue with the sea " (Bell), and because " from the stage- 
directions in other Masques it may be inferred that convention associ- 
ated hair of this hue with the deities of the sea " (Verity). Against 
this interpretation, however, it may be urged that " green-haired " " is the 
usual poetic epithet for Neptune and his subordinates " (Masson), and 
that blue-haired deities " must be distinct from the tributary gods who 
wield their little tridents (line 27), otherwise the thought would ill accord 
with the complimentary nature of lines 30-36 " (Bell). 

15 30. This tract. Wales. 

15 31. A noble peer. The Earl of Bridgewater, Viceroy of Wales, 
who was present at the performance. This is but one of the many 
compliments which the poet contrives to pay throughout the poem, 
which the student may search out for himself. 

15 33. An old and haughty nation, etc. A tribute justified by the 
history of the Welsh people. 

15 36. New-intrusted. The Earl, however, had received his appoint- 
ment as early as the summer of 1631. 

15 37. Perplexed. Entangled ; see on 4. 

15 38. The nodding horror, etc. Think out and explain the figure. 

15 41. Quick command. Explain. 

15 45. In hall and bower. The bower was "An inner apartment, esp. 
as distinguished from the ' hall,' or large public room, in ancient man- 
sions " [New Eng. Diet.). Scott uses the phrase as the equivalent of 
" among men or women," since the hall of the lord was often distin- 
guished from the bower of the lady. 

15 46. Bacchus. See Class. Diet. ; Trent refers to Walter Pater's 
Greek Studies. 

15 4S. After the Tuscan mariners transformed. After the Tuscan 
mariners had been transformed. The construction is a Latin one ; cf. 
P. L. i. 573, v. 248, etc., Cicero, Phil. iii. 9 : tarn a condita tirbe, " even 
from the founding of the city." The story of the mariners who seized 
Bacchus, and were by him changed into dolphins, is told in the Homeric 
Hymn to Dionysos and Ovid's Met. iii. 660 et sea.; but see Class. Diet. 

15 49. As the winds listed. Cf. John iii. 8. 

15 50. Circe's island. JExa., off the coast of Latium. For the story 
of Ulysses's visit to Circe, see Odyssey x. On . . . fell; cf. the Latin 
phrase, incidere in. Note the anadiplosis in this line. 



88 NOTES. 

15 51. Daughter of the Sun. Browne, in his Inner Temple Masque, 
had called Circe " daughter to the Sun." Charmed cup illustrates what 
figure ? 

16 58. Comus. This genealogy, as well as the idea of bringing 
Bacchus to Circe's island, is Milton's own invention. Comus (Greek 
KUfios) means a "revel," "carousal," "merrymaking." If the first gene- 
alogy given to Mirth in VAl. 14-24 be accepted, Comus is the half- 
brother of Mirth, she representing Pleasure on the innocent side, and 
he on the sensual side. 

16 59. Frolic. See on UAL 18. Of, because of. 

16 60. Celtic and Iberian fields. France and Spain. Why appro- 
priate for Comus ? 

16 61. Ominous. A dissyllable here; cf. 205-209. 

16 65. Orient. Bright ; cf. P. L. i. 545-546. Trent, however, thinks 
Milton may have intended " a partial reference to the eastern drugs and 
poisons familiar in literature." 

16 66. Drouth of Phoebus. Drought of Phoebus, i.e., thirst caused 
by the heat of the sun. 

16 67. Fond. Foolish ; see on // P. 6. 

16 69. The express resemblance of the gods. Cf. Genesis i. 26-27. 

16 72. All other parts, etc. This is a deviation from the account 
given by Homer. Cf. the Odyssey x. 237-240 : " Now when she had given 
them the cup and they had drunk it off, presently she smote them with a 
wand, and in the styes of the swine she penned them. So they had the 
head and voice, the bristles and the shape of swine, but their mind abode 
even as of old " (Butcher and Lang). Why did Milton make the change ? 

16 74. Not once perceive, etc. Another deviation; see on 72. Why 
this change ? Whose idea gives the greater pathos, Milton's or Homer's ? 
Cf Odyssey ix. 91-97: "Then straightway they went and mixed with 
the men of the lotus-eaters, and so it was that the lotus-eaters devised 
not death for our fellows, but gave them of the lotus to taste. Now 
whosoever of them did eat the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus, had no 
more wish to bring tidings nor to come back, but there he chose to 
abide with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus, and forgetful 
of his homeward way " (Butcher and Lang). Masson cites Plato's 
ethical application of the story in the Republic viii. and Browne com- 
pares F. Q. ii. 12. 86, and note, in Clarendon Press edition. 

16 79. Adventurous glade. Explain. 

16 80. Swift as the sparkle, etc. Note how sound and sense are 
blended; cf. P. L. i. 745, iv. 556, V. and A. 815. 



NOTES. 89 

16 83. Spun out of Iris' woof. Spun out of the material dyed by 
Iris, the goddess of the rainbow ; an explanation supported by P. L. 
xi. 244. Cf. 16, 992. 

16 84. Weeds. See on 16. 

17 86. Who, with, etc. Note the alliteration in this and the two 
following lines. 

17 S7. Knows to still. Cf. Lye. 10-11. 

17 38. Nor of less faith. " Not less trustworthy than he is skilled 
in music " (Masson). 

17 92. Viewless. Invisible. 

17 93. The star. The evening star. Milton may have remembered 
Shakspere's description of the morning star; cf. M. for M. iv. 2. 218 
(quoted by Keightley). 

17 96. His glowing axle, etc. " Perhaps the text is an allusion to 
the opinion of the ancients, that the setting of the sun in the Atlantic 
ocean was accompanied with a noise, as of the sea hissing. See Juvenal, 
Sat. xiv. 280 : Audiet Herculeo stridentem gurgite solem " (Todd). 

17 97. Steep. Milton here refers to what Tennyson calls " the 
slope of the sea," which is, of course, an optical illusion. Cf. The Prin- 
cess vii. 20-26. The word does not, therefore, mean " deep " (Browne) ; 
nor does it refer either to the steep descent of the sun (Keightley) or to 
the " one wide road of light, which seems to rise steep from the spec- 
tator to the disappearing sun " (Elton). 

17 98. Slope. Sloped, i.e., sunk beneath the horizon, as the con- 
text shows. 

17 99. Dusky pole. "The zenith, top of heaven (1. 94), which 
darkens as the sun withdraws, save for a last shaft of light {upward 
'&o*i)"(felton). 

17 101. His chamber. Cf. Psalm xix. 4-5. 

17 102-144. Meanwhile, etc. Bell contrasts the " spirit " of these 
lines with that of VAl. 25-40. 

17 105. Rosy twine. Twined roses. 

18 111. Of purer fire. Of the four elements, out of which it was 
anciently supposed everything was created, fire, the element of which it 
was thought the gods consisted, was deemed the purest. Cf A. and C. 
v. 2. 292-293, Hen. V. hi. 7. 21-25. " The stress is on fire" (Browne). 

18 112. The starry quire. This is one of the numberless references 
in English poetry to the music of the spheres. Cf. M. of V. v. 1. 60- 
65, Arcades 61-73. For the construction of the phrase, cf. 105, 1021, 
etc. Note the rhythm in 113-114. 



90 NOTES. 

18 115. Sounds and seas. Distinguish. 

18 116. Morrice. A Moorish dance, said to have been brought 
from Spain into England in the reign of Edward III. What is the 
force of to ? 

18 118. Pert. Lively, alert; as in M. N. D. i. i. 13. Dapper, 
spruce, dainty ; originally it meant " brave." Is there any real dis- 
tinction between fairies and elves ? 

18 119. Dimpled brook. " Note the exquisite choice of epithets in 
dimpled and trim (1. 120) " (Trent). 

18 121. Wakes. Night-watches. " The wake was kept by an all- 
night watch in the church. Tents were erected in the church-yard to 
supply refreshments to the crowd on the following day, which was 
kept as a holiday. Through the large attendance from neighboring 
parishes at wakes, devotion and reverence gradually diminished, until 
they ultimately became mere fairs or markets, characterized by merry- 
making and often disgraced by indulgence and riot " (Cent. Diet). See 
Brand, Popular Antiquities. 

18 125. Rites. Rights in both Milton's editions, though rites in 
1. 535 (Masson). 

18 129. Colytto. " A goddess worshiped by the Thracians, and 
apparently identical with the Phrygian Cybele. Her worship was 
introduced at Athens and Corinth, where it was celebrated, in private, 
with great indecency and licentiousness." — Harper's Diet, of Class. 
Lit. and Ant. 

18 132. Stygian darkness. See on LAI. 3. Spets ; spits. 

18 135. Hecat'. Hecate, "a mysterious divinity sometimes identi- 
fied with Diana and sometimes with Proserpina. As Diana represents 
the moonlight splendor of night, so Hecate represents its darkness and 
terrors. She haunted cross-roads and graveyards, was the goddess of 
sorcery and witchcraft, and wandered by night, seen only by the dogs, 
whose barking told of her approach " (Gayley). 

18 138-140. Ere the, etc. " These lines are a little mosaic of 
borrowed touches" (Verity). See Introduction, p. xlii. et seq. 

18 139. Nice. Coy, prudish ; as often in Shakspere. 

18 141. Descry. Reveal. 

19 144. Light fantastic round. Cf.DAl.24- Round; dance. The 
Measure is described in the Cambridge MS. of Comus as " in a wild, rude 
and wanton Antic " (quoted by Verity), although it was usually a grave 
and solemn dance. See Much Ado ii. 1. 80. 

19 145. Break off, etc. Observe how well the change in meter 



NOTES. 91 

corresponds with the change that comes over the spirit of Comus and 
his talk. 

19 147. Shrouds. Shelters, coverts ; the verb is used in 316. 
" The Cambridge MS. adds the direction They all scatter" (Verity). 

19 151. Trains. Allurements ; as in Macb. iv. 3. 118. 

19 153-154. Thus I hurl, etc. " Conceive that at this moment of 
the performance the actor who personates Comus flings into the air, 
or makes a gesture as if flinging into the air, some powder, which, by 
a stage-device, is kindled, so as to produce a flash of blue light " 
(Masson). The Cambridge MS. has powdered spells ; cf. 1. 165. Spongy, 
because the air seems to absorb the spells. 

19 156. Presentments. Representations, pictures ; as in Ham. iii. 
4. 54. False, because imaginary. 

19 157. Quaint. " Bizarre and pretty, like the dress {habits) of a 
conjuror" (Elton) ; in Shakspere the word means "fine, neat, pretty, 
pleasant " (Schmidt). 

19 161. Glozing. Flattering, deceiving. 

19 163. Wind me into. Insinuate myself into the confidence of, 
as in Lear i. 2. 106. 

19 165. Virtue. Power, efficacy; see on // P. 113. This magic 
dust ; see on 153-154. 

19 166-169. I shall appear, etc. On the text of these lines, see 
Masson. 

19 167. Gear. Business. 

19 168. Fairly. Softly; in Much Ado v. 4. 72, "Soft and fair" 
together signify " gently." 

20 169. The Lady. " She is the sweet embodiment of Milton's 
youthful ideal of virtue," says Van Dyke, "clothed with the fairness 
of opening womanhood, armed with the sun-clad power of chastity. 
Darkness and danger cannot 

Stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts. 

Evil things have no power upon her, but shrink abashed from her 
presence." After comparing with her Tennyson's Isabel and Godiva, 
he adds : " These are sisters, perfect in purity as in beauty, and worthy 
to be enshrined forever in the love of youth. They are ideals which 
draw the heart, not downward, but upward by the power of ' das 
ewig Weibliche.'' " — Van Dyke, Poetry of Tennyson (second edition), 
t pp. 69-70. 

20 171. Methought. It seemed to me. In Anglo-Saxon there 



92 NOTES. 

were two verbs, ^encan, to think, and d'yncan, to seem. From the 
latter came methinks, the verb being intransitive and the pronoun 
dative. 

20 173. Jocund. Cf. L'Al. 94. 

20 175. Granges. Granaries ; the original meaning of the word. 

20 176. Pan. The Greek god of flocks and shepherds. See Class. 
Diet. 

20 178. Swilled. Drunken; swilled, from swill, to drink greedily, 
is an epithet transferred from wassailers. " Where did the young lady 
ever hear or learn such expressions as ' swilled insolence ' ? " (Landor). 
Cf. P. L. i. 501-502. 

20 179. Wassailers. Revelers ; look up etymology of word. 

20 184. Spreading favour of these pines. Explain. 

20 1S8. Grey-hooded Even. Is this as good an example of personi- 
fication as the one in R. and J. iii. 5. 9-10, or the one in Ham. i. 1. 
166-167? Landor found fault with the figure. Can you guess why ? 

20 1S9. Sad. Grave, serious ; as often in Elizabethan English. 
Votarist ; votary, one who has taken a vow. A palmer was originally 
" one who made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and brought home a 
/a/w-branch as a token." — Skeat, Works of Chaucer, Vol. V. p. 3, 
which see for the essential difference between palmers and pilgrims. 
Can you realize the picture in 1S8-190? Do you know how a palmer 
was dressed ? 

20 190. Wain. Wagon. 

20 195. Stole. Cf. II P. 91 ; see Abbott, § 343. 

20 195-200. Else, thievish Night, etc. Do you regard this 
figure as very poetic ? 

21 204. Single. Mere, unmixed ; cf. 369. 

21 205-209. A thousand fantasies, etc. " These lines are sup- 
posed by Warton and Todd to be based upon passages in Marco 
Polo's Travels, and in Heywood's Hierarchy of Angels. In a quota- 
tion from the latter work, benighted travellers are related to have seen 
three strange human shapes, that called and beckoned to them. But the 
Tempest may well have suggested the whole imagery " (Browne). 
Verity, however, urges that " Milton was drawing upon a popular 
superstition ; . . . No doubt many of his audience believed in these 
' calling shapes ' and ' airy tongues ' of which mediaeval romance is 
full." On 11. 205-225, see Henry Reed, Lectures on the British Poets, 
i. 213-214. 

21 208. Airy tongues. "... if there is one thing more striking 



NOTES. 93 

than another in this poet, it is that his great and original imagination 
was almost wholly nourished by books, perhaps I should rather say 
set in motion by them. It is wonderful how, from the most withered 
and juiceless hint gathered from his reading, his grand images rise like 
an exhalation ; how from the most battered old lamp caught in that 
huge drag-net with which he swept the waters of learning, he could 
conjure a tall genius to build his palaces. Whatever he touches swells 
and towers. That wonderful passage in 'Comus' of the airy tongues, 
perhaps the most imaginative in suggestion he ever wrote, was conjured 
out of a dry sentence in Purchas's abstract of Marco Polo." — Lowell, 
Works (Houghton), Vol. IV. pp. 104-105. But see on 205-209. Beers, 
in his Hist, of Eng. Rom., etc., pp. 93-94, quotes 11. 20S-209 as a 
glimpse "behind the curtain which hangs between nature and the super- 
natural." Syllable, pronounce distinctly; literally, pronounce the sylla- 
bles one by one. 

21 212. Conscience. A trisyllable. 

21 215. Chastity. Instead of Charity (Keightley) ; cf. I Corin- 
thians xiii. 13. Verity notes that "the substantive chastity occurs 
seven times in the poem; the adjective chaste four times." Why is 
this significant ? 

21216. I see ye visibly. 0^155-156. 

21 217. Supreme. See on 4; to whom should be slurred into one 
syllable (t'whom). 

21 219. Glistering. Glistening, a form not used by either Shaks- 
pere or Milton. Cf. the familiar line in M. of V. ii. 7. 65. 

21 221-224. Was I deceived, etc. For other examples of iteration 
of the same sort, see Hill, Principles of Rhetoric (1895), P- T 5 2 I perhaps 
the finest example in Milton's poems is in P. L. vii. 25-26. But, if 
possible, consult C. A. Smith, Repetition and Parallelism in English 
Verse. What proverb do these lines suggest ? 

21 225. Casts. This is an example of construction changed by 
change of thought; we should expect cast. But see Abbott, §415, 
Masson, Vol. III. p. 84. Tufted; cf. VAl. 78. 

22 230. Sweet Echo. For the story of Echo and Narcissus (237), 
see Class. Diet. The appeal to Echo seems to have been a common 
device with masque-writers, and several instances very similar to the 
present one can be pointed out in masques which preceded Milton's. 
Examine the metrical structure of the song. 

22 231. Thy airy shell. The hollow vault of the atmosphere, or 
Omar Khayyam's 



94 NOTES. 

" inverted Bowl they call the Sky, 
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die." 

Cf. Nat. 102-103. But the word has been taken as referring to (1) a 
sea-shell, (2) a musical shell {concha), or (3) the body or form of Echo. 
Thomas, who defends the last interpretation, says : " Milton frequently 
uses ' airy ' in the sense of 'unsubstantial' or 'spirit.' (See above, 
1. 208; also // P. 148); and if we remember the mythological story, 
how Echo pined away, and her material body disappeared, leaving 
nothing but her voice, ' airy shell ' might well be applied to her form." 
Of which of these, prithee, was Landor thinking, when he said : " The 
habitation is better adapted to an oyster than to Echo " ? 

22 232. Meander. A river in Asia Minor from which we have 
derived a much-used word. See Hales, Folia Litteraria, pp. 231-238. 
Professor Hales thinks the Meander is mentioned because it " was a 
famous haunt of swans, and the swan was a favourite bird with the 
Greek and Latin writers — one to whose sweet singing they perpetually 
allude. . . . there is no particular reference to the sinuous course of 
the river, except so far as the epithet 'slow ' refers to it." The special 
haunt of the nightingale which Milton had in mind, according to Hales, 
was " the woodlands close by Athens to the north-west, through which 
the Cephissus flowed, and where stood the birthplace of Sophocles, 

Singer of sweet Colonus and its child." 

Margent, margin. 

22 234. Love-lorn. Deprived of her love; cf. Temp. iv. 1. 68. 

22 241. Parley. Speech. Do you note the appropriateness of this 
designation ? Daughter of the Sphere, i.e., daughter of what Milton 
calls the airy shell, if that phrase be taken in the sense first suggested 
in the note on 231 ; see Cent. Diet. s. v. sphere. Warburton (quoted by 
Todd), however, thinks that Milton supposes Echo to "owe her first 
existence to the reverberation of the music of the spheres." If this be 
true, sphere is used in the sense common to the old astronomers, who 
imagined that the stars, sun, moon, and planets were set in transparent 
spheres, which revolved about the earth as their center and produced 
the " music of the spheres." Cf. At a Solemn Music 2. 

22 243. Resounding grace. Grace of resounding, i.e., charm of 
echo. What is the effect of the Alexandrine ? 

22 244. In the Cambridge MS., Verity says, there is a stage-direc- 
tion : Comus looks in and speaks. " This beginning has the ring of 
Marlowe's verse, its impetus and passion " (Elton). 



NOTES. 95 

22 247. Vocal air. Explain. 

22 248. His. Its. 

22 250. Empty-vaulted night. Explain. 

22 251. Fall. Cf. T. JVA. I. 4. Smoothing, etc.; cf. II P. 58. 

22 252. It. What ? Note the exquisite beauty of 11. 249-252. 

22 253. Sirens. Milton, in associating the sirens with Circe, modi- 
fies the myth to suit his own purpose, just as Browne in his Inner 
Temple Masque had previously done. Homer, moreover, mentions 
only two Sirens. See Class. Diet. ; Odyssey x. xii. Also see on 867- 
889. 

22 254. Flowery-kirtled. Wearing kirtles covered with flowers, or, 
perhaps, kirtles made of flowers. 

22 256. Take the prisoned soul. " Take the soul prisoner ; 
'prisoned' being used proleptically " (Bell). For examples of pro- 
lepsis in Shakspere, see Schmidt, p. 1420. 

22 257. Lap. Cf. DAI. 136. Scylla ; see Class. Diet. 

23 258. Barking waves. Cf. Virgil, sEneid vii. 588 : midtis circum 
latrantibus undis. 

23 259. Charybdis. See Class. Diet. 

23 260. Yet they, etc. Browne quotes F. Q. iii. Introduction 4 : 
" My senses lulled are in slomber of delight." 

23 265. Hail, foreign wonder ! Cf. Temp.i. 2. 421-427. Dr. John- 
son thought the dispute between the Lady and Comus "the most ani- 
mated and affecting scene of the drama." 

23 267. Unless. To bring out the meaning, supply thou be after 
Unless, although the charm of the line lies in the suppressed inference. 

23 268. Pan. See on 176. Sylvan ; see on II P. 134. 

23 269-270. Forbidding, etc. Cf. Arcades 44-53. 

23 271. Ill is lost. A Latin idiom, — male perditur (Keightley). 

23 273. Extreme shift. Last resort ; cf. 617. For accent, see on 4. 

23-24 277-290. What chance, etc. " Here is an imitation of those 
scenes in the Greek tragedies where the dialogue proceeds by question 
and answer, a single verse being allotted to each" (Hurd, quoted by 
Masson). Cf. Rich. III. iv. 4. 211-218, 343-361, M. of V. iv. 1. 65-69, 
Browning, Balaustion, etc. 

23 279. Near-ushering guides. Explain. 

23 285. Forestalling. Anticipating. 

24 286. Hit. Guess; see on 77 P. 14. 

24 290. Hebe. See on DAI. 29. Unrazored ; Warton thought 
this an " unpleasant epithet," but he noted that Shakspere has razorable, 



96 NOTES. 

Temp. ii. i. 250. Does Milton make the brothers talk in character with 
his description of them ? 

24 291. What time. When. Laboured ox; why the epithet? 
The notation of time here is quite pastoral. " The return of oxen and 
horses from the plough is certainly not a natural circumstance of an 
English evening, except it be an evening in winter, when the ploughman 
must work as long as he can see " (Todd). Landor also says that " in the 
summer, and this was summer, neither the ox nor the hedger are at work." 

24 293. Swinked. Labored, tired ; look up etymology. Hedger, a 
maker or mender of hedges ; possibly the word is here used generally 
for " laborer." 

24 294. Mantling. Covering like a mantle ; not " spreading," as 
some editors interpret. LI. 294-296 are among the best in the poem. 

24 297. Port. Bearing. As they stood ; pleonasm. 

24 299. Element. The air or sky ; so in Shakspere frequently. 

24 301. Plighted. Folded. For awe-strook, see Masson on P. L. 
ii. 165. 

24 303. Like the path to Heaven. Point out the similarity. 

24 312. Dingle . . . dell. Distinguish. 

24 313. Bosky. Woody. Bourne, brook or boundary, it is difficult 
to say which. See New Eng. Diet. 

24 315. Stray attendance. Strayed attendants; for examples in 
Shakspere of the abstract for the concrete, see. Schmidt, pp. 1421-1423. 

25 316. Shroud. See on 147. 

25 317. Low-roosted lark. " The lark in her low resting-place " 
(Masson) ; roost, even to-day, is used figuratively for " any temporary 
resting-place" (Stand. Diet). Cf. P. R. ii. 279-280. 

25 318. Thatched pallet. Thatched, as Masson suggests, may here 
refer to the texture of the nest itself, and not to the covering. Keight- 
ley, however, says : " The ideas here belong rather to a hen-house than 
to the resting-place of the lark, which has no thatch over it, and in 
which, as it is on the ground, he does not roost." 

25 322. Courtesy. Milton suggests the correct derivation of the 
word ; cf. F. Q. vi. I . I : 

" Of Court, it seemes, men Courtesie doe call, 
For that it there most useth to abound ; 
And well beseemeth that in princes hall 
That vertue should be plentifully found, 
Which of all goodly manners is the ground, 
And roote of civill conversation : " 



NOTES. 97 

25 324. Tapestry. Pronounce. 

25 329. Square. Adjust; cf. IV. T. v. i. 52. 

25 330. The Two Brothers. " The dialogue between the two 
brothers is an amicable contest between fact and philosophy. The 
younger draws his arguments from common apprehension, and the 
obvious appearance of things : the elder proceeds on a profounder 
knowledge, and argues from abstracted principles. Here the difference 
of their ages is properly made subservient to a contrast of character " 
(Warton, quoted by Todd). Considered from a dramatic point of view, 
could the dialogue be improved in any way ? 

25 332. The traveller's benison. Cf. F. Q. iii. 1. 43. 

25 333. Stoop. Cf. II P. 72. 

25 334. Disinherit. Dispossess ; see Schmidt for Shakspere's use 
of " inherit." 

25 335. Double night, etc. "The natural darkness of night and 
the local darkness of the woods " (Masson). Cf. S. A. 593. 

25 338. Wicker hole. What is meant ? 

25 340. Rule. Line, ray; in the prose and poetry of our language 
there are many descriptions of the same thing, some of w T hich will 
readily recur to the mind. What effect is the alliteration in this line 
intended to produce ? 

25 341. Star of Arcady, etc. Any star in the constellation of the 
Greater Bear. Tyricrn (Cynosure, the Lesser Bear, the constellation by 
which the Tyrian or Phoenician mariners steered. See on UAL 80 ; 
look up the myths of Callisto and Areas in Class. Diet., which will 
explain the phrase of Aready. 

26 345. Pastoral reed. Shepherd's pipe. Oaten stops, holes in 
the oaten stem of which the shepherd's pipe is made. See on 
Lye. 33. 

26 349. Innumerous. Innumerable; cf. P. L. vii. 455. 

26 356. What if, etc. Supply the ellipsis in this line. 

26 358. Savage hunger, etc. " The hunger of savage beasts, or 
the lust of men as savage as they" (Newton). 

26 359. Over-exquisite. Too inquisitive; look up etymology of 
exquisite. 

26 360. Cast the fashion. Foretell the form. If this interpreta- 
tion is correct, the metaphor is from astrology, and not from medi- 
cine, metallurgy, or accounts, as has been variously explained. 

26 361. Be so. That is, be really evils. Is this line necessary ? 

26 362. What. Why. 



98 NOTES. 

26 363. Run to meet, etc. What proverb is alluded to ? Cf. 
Much Ado i. i. 96-97. 

26 366. So to seek. So at a loss ; cf. P. L. viii. 197. 
26 367. Unprincipled. Ungrounded in the principles of. 

26 370. Not being in danger, etc. " Lord Monboddo greatly ad- 
mired this parenthesis, and pointed out how the voice of the speaker 
must have varied its tone in passing from the first clause to the second" 
(Masson). 

27 373-375. Virtue could see, etc. Cf. R. and J. hi. 2. 8-9; also 
F. Q.i. 1. 12: " Vertue gives her selfe light through darkenesse for to 
wade." Ben Jonson, in Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue, says of Virtue : 

" She, she it is in darkness shines, 
'T is she that still herself refines, 
By her own light to every eye." 

27 375. Flat sea. Cf. Lye. 98. 

27 375-380. And wisdom's self, etc. It has been pointed out that 
these lines describe Milton's life at Horton, 1632-1637. 

27 376. Seeks to. Resorts to ; " common in our translation of the 
Bible" (Todd). 

27 377. Contemplation. Cf. II P. 54. 

27 380. All to-ruffled. In Milton's editions printed all to ruffl'd, 
which has been variously emended : (1) all too ruffled ; (2) all-to ruffled ; 
(3) all to-ruffled. Of these the last has the most to support it, and 
means " quite ruffled up "; the other readings may be interpreted as (1) 
" much too ruffled," and (2) " altogether ruffled." See Masson's note 
and New Eng. Diet. s.v. All, C. 14, 15. 

27 382. I' the centre. That is, in the center of the earth ; cf. P. L. 
i. 74, 686, P. R. iv. 534. 

27 385. Himself is his own dungeon. Cf. S. A. 155-156, P. L. 
i. 254-255. 

27 385-389. >T is most true, etc. Cf. II P. 167-174. 

27 386. Affects. Likes, prefers ; with no sense of doing so for 
effect. 

27 389. As safe, etc. " Milton was thinking of the Roman Curia. 
Twenty years later Cromwell showed, April 20th, 1653, tnat tne S reat 
English Council-chamber was not inviolable " (Verity). 

27 390. Weeds. See on VAl. 12c. 

27 393. Hesperian. The Hesperides were the sisters, who, assisted 



NOTES. 99 

by the dragon Ladon, guarded the golden apples of Juno. To slay 
this dragon and secure the fruit was one of the labors of Hercules. 
See Class. Diet. 

27 395. Unenchanted. Explain ; see on VAl. 40. 

27 398. Unsunned. Cf. KQ.il 7. Heading: 

" Gunyon findes Mamon in a delve, 
Sunning his treasure hore." 

27 401. Wink on. Shut the eyes to, seem not to see ; or possibly, 
give a significant look to. Cf. A. Y. L. I 3. 112. 

27 402. A single. Trent inserts a comma after single. Any differ- 
ence in meaning? 

28 403. Surrounding. What was the original meaning of the word ? 
28 404. Of night or loneliness. Cf. 369. It recks me not, I take 

no account; cf. Lye. 122. 

28 408. Infer. Argue. 

28 409. Without all doubt. Beyond all doubt. 

28 413. Suspicion. Pronounce. 

28 419. If. Even if. 

28-30 420-475. 'T is chastity, etc. This passage, says Masson, "is 
not only a concentrated expression of the moral of the whole Masque, 
but also an exposition of what was a cardinal idea with Milton through 
his whole life, and perhaps the most central idea of his personal philos- 
ophy in early manhood." 

28 421. Complete steel. See on 4; cf. Ham. I 4. 52. 

28 422. A quivered nymph, etc. Cf. Spenser's description of Bel- 
phcebe, K Q. ii. 3. 29, 31. 

28 423. Trace. Traverse. Cf. M. AT. £>. ii. 1. 25. Unharboured, 
unharboring ; sometimes interpreted " yielding no shelter." 

28 424. Infamous. Pronounce. 

28 425. The sacred rays, etc. Cf. 7S2. 

28 426. Bandite. So spelled by Milton. Mountaineer, as Warton 
notes, is here an opprobrious term; cf. Cymb. iv. 2. 120. Contrast the 
present use of the word. 

28 428. Very. Veritable ; very is here an adjective. 

28 429. Horrid. Meaning? Cf. horror, 38, and Latin horridus. 
How is the word sometimes abused ? 

29 432. Some say, etc. Cf. Ham. I 1. 158-164; Newton cites 
Fletcher, Kaithful Shepherdess, i. I : 



100 NOTES. 

" Yet I have heard (my mother told it me, 
And now I do believe it), if I keep 
My virgin-flower uncropt, pure, chaste, and fair, 
No goblin, wood-god, fairy, elf, or fiend, 
Satyr, or other power that haunts the groves, 
Shall hurt my body, or by vain illusion 
Draw me to wander after idle fires ; 
Or voices calling me in dead, of night, 
To make me follow, and so tole me on, 
Through mire and standing pools, to find my ruin." 

What differences do you find between 11. 432-437, 438-452, and 453- 

475- 

28 433. Or fire. See on UAL 104 ; cf. P. L. ix. 634-642. 

29 434. Blue. " There were witches to represent most colours " 
(Verity), but blue here may refer to the appearance of the hag. Unlaid 
ghost, a ghost that has not been "laid" or exorcised ; cf. Cymb. iv. 2. 
278. For some interesting superstitions entertained regarding ghosts, 
see Brand, Popular Antiquities. 

29 435. Curfew. See on II P. 74 ; for the popular superstition 
that ghosts would wander about from curfew until the first cockcrow, 
cf. Lear iii. 4. 1 20-1 21. 

29 436. Goblin. See on UAL 105. Swart ; cf. Lye. 138. Warton 
and Todd give numerous instances of the superstition which supposed 
that mines were inhabited by various sorts of spirits. 

29 438-440. Do ye believe, etc. Cf. the latter part of the justly 
famous passage on " Athens, the eye of Greece," P. R. iv. 236-284. 

29 442. Silver-shafted queen. " The epithet is applicable to Diana 
both as huntress and goddess of the moon : as the former she bore 
arrows which were frequently called shafts, and as the latter she bore 
shafts or rays of light " (Bell). 

29 443. Brinded. Cf. Macb. iv. 1. 1. 

29 445. The frivolous bolt of Cupid. Verity objects that " Cupid 
was said to have two kinds of darts, one with a golden, the other with 
a leaden tip ; the former to cause, the latter to repel, love," and quotes 
Ovid, Met. i. 469-471 ; but Milton, who was certainly aware of this fact, 
evidently depends upon the context, and the epithet frivolous (especially 
characteristic of the golden bolt), to make clear his meaning. 

29 447. Snaky-headed Gorgon shield. Cf Iliad v. 738-741 : 
" About her shoulders cast she the tasselled aegis terrible . . . and 
therein is the dreadful monster's Gorgon head, dreadful and grim, 



NO TES. 101 

portent of aegis-bearing Zeus." For snaky-headed, look up the myth of 
Perseus and Medusa in Class. Diet. 

29 449. Freezed. On the tendency of strong verbs to become weak 
consult some good history of the English language, — Emerson's or 
Lounsbury's. Congealed ; see on 4. 

29 450. Rigid looks, etc. " Rigid looks refer to snaky locks, and 
noble grace to the beautiful face, as Gorgon is represented on ancient 
gems" (Warburton, quoted by Todd). 

29 451. Dashed. Put out of countenance ; cf. L. L. L. v. 2. 585. 

29 452. Blank awe. Explain. 

29 455. Lackey. Attend as lackies, or servants. 

29 457. Vision. A trisyllable; cf. 298. 

29 458. Things that no gross ear can hear. Cf. 784, Arcades 73. 
See on 112. 

29-30 459-463. Till oft converse, etc. Cf. P. L. v. 404-503, where 
the doctrine is developed more at length. Oft converse, frequent inter- 
course. Heavenly habitants ; cf. 455. 

29 462. Turns. We should expect the subjunctive here, as in 460, 
but perhaps Masson is right in suggesting that the syntax is intention- 
ally abnormal ; " as if certainty had so increased before the second 
clause that it could be stated as a fact." 

30 463-475. But, when lust, etc. Warton was the first to perceive 
that the doctrine here expounded is from Plato's Pha:do. See Jowett, 
Dialogues of Plato (third edition), Vol. II. pp. 224-225. 

30 469. Divine. Pronounce. 

30 473. It. What should we have expected ? 

30 474. Sensualty. So spelled by Milton. 

30 478. But musical, etc. Shakspere had previously said this of 
Love ; cf. L. L. L. iv. 3. 342-343. The present passage is usually taken 
as a compliment to Plato. 

30 483. Night-foundered. Explain ; cf P. LA. 204. 

30 4S6. Sister. Lowell notes that " the e is elided from the word 
sister by its preceding a vowel." — Works (Houghton), Vol. IV. p. 108, 
note. 

31 490. That hallo, etc. The edition printed by Lawes in 1637 has 
the following stage-direction : " He hallos ; the Guardian Daemon hallos 
again, and enters in the habit of a shepherd." W T hat is the effect of the 
succession of hallos {cf 481, 486, 487, 490) ? 

31 491. Iron stakes. Cf 487. 
31 492. Young. Stress. 



102 NOTES. 

31 494. Thyrsis. See on L'Al. 83-88 ; in Epitaphium Damonis, 
Milton represents himself as Thyrsis, and in his poem entitled Thyrsis 
Matthew Arnold sings of his friend Clough. The name has been freely 
used in pastoral poetry from the time of Theocritus to the present. 

31 495-512. The huddling brook, etc. Note the rhymed couplets 
in this passage. Why are they used ? 

31 495. Huddling. Explain. To what legend is there an allusion 
in this passage? Cf UAL 145-150, etc. 

31 501. His next joy. Rolfe takes this as referring to the younger 
brother, but if next be used in the sense of " nearest," " dearest," a sense 
frequent enough in Elizabethan English, it may be addressed to the 
elder brother. 

31 502. Toy. See on // P. 4. 

31 506. To. Force oito? 

31 507. Where is she ? But see 562 et seq. 

31 508. How chance, etc. See Abbott, § 37. 

31 509. Sadly. See on 189. 

31 512. Shew. Pronounce. 

31 515. Sage poets. Milton refers especially to Homer and Virgil, 
though there is a possibility of his having Spenser and Tasso also in 
mind. In P. L. hi. 19, he repeats taught by the heavenly Muse. 

32 516. Storied. Explain ; cf. IIP. 1 59. 

32 517. Dire Chimeras. Cf. P. L. ii. 628. Enchanted isles ; refer- 
ring, probably, to the islands of Circe and Calypso (Odyssey), although 
Verity thinks the " Wandering Islands " of the E. Q. ii. 12. 11 et seq. are 
meant. Spenser, he adds, there follows Tasso's account of the isle of 
Armida. 

32 520. Navel. Center. The editors note that Delphi was named 
the navel of the earth. 

32 521. A sorcerer, etc. See 46 et seq., and on 58. 

32 526. Murmurs. Incantations; cf 817, Arcades 60, and Statius, 
Thebais ix. 732-733 (quoted by Todd) : 

Cantusque sacros et conscia miscet 
Murnnira. 

32 529. Reason. Cf. P. L. v. 100-102. 

32 530. Charactered. Impressed, stamped. The word is accented 
on the second syllable; being used in its original sense (Gr. x a P aKT VP)> 
it continues the metaphor, which is taken from the process of melting 
down coins. 



NOTES. 103 

32 531. Crofts. "A piece of enclosed ground, used for tillage or 
pasture : in most localities a small piece of arable land adjacent to a 
house" {New Eng. Diet). Milton's use of the word here, as Murray 
remarks, suggests the sense of the Dutch word kroft, krocht, which he 
defines as " prominent rocky height, high and dry land, field on the 
downs." 

32 532. Brow. Overhang; cf.L'Al.S. Whence; explain. 

32 533. Monstrous rout. See on Lye. 1 58. 

32 534. Stabled wolves. Wolves in their dens, although some edi- 
tors interpret " wolves that have got into the sheepfold." But compare 
P. L. xi. 751-752, and Virgil, sEneid vi. 179: stabula alta ferarum 
(quoted by Bell). 

32 535. Hecate. See on 135. 

32 539. Unweeting. Unwitting. 

32 540. By then. By the time that ; or perhaps by then . . .fold is 
parenthetical. 

32 542. Dew-besprent. Sprinkled with dew; cf. Lye. 29. 

32 545. Flaunting honeysuckle. Cf. Lye. 40. 

32 546. Melancholy. Pensive contemplation ; a sense now rare. 
"This line contains the gist of // Penseroso" (Trent). 

33 547. To meditate. Probably " to practise " ; see on Lye. 66. 
33 54S. Close. " The conclusion of a musical phrase, theme, or 

movement ; a Cadence " {New Eng. Diet.). Which idea best suits the 
present passage ? Cf. Nat. 99-100. 

33 550. Barbarous. Etymological meaning ? 

33 552. An unusual stop. See 145. 

33 553. Drowsy-flighted. "Always drowsily-flying" (Masson). 
The reading in the text is from the Cambridge MS., which gives 
drowsy flighted ; both of Milton's editions, as well as Lawes's edition 
of 1637, have drowsie frighted. If Milton intended the latter, the mean- 
ing would probably be " the drowsy steeds that have been frightened " 
(Masson). Some editors print drowsy-frighted, and explain frighted as 
"freighted." 

33 554. Close-curtained Sleep. Cf. Shakspere's " The curtain'd 
Sleep," Macb. ii. 1. 51 ; see also my edition of The Ancient Mariner 
(The Macmillan Company), p. 88. 

33 555-562. At last, etc. The reference is to the Echo song (230); 
the lines themselves constitute Milton's finest compliment to Lady Alice. 

33 556. Rose like a steam, etc. Cf. T. N. i. 1. 1-7; the second 
edition has stream, and so spoils the comparison. 



104 NOTES. 

33 557. That. So that; cf. P. L. iv. 604. 

33 560. Still. Always, ever. 

33 561. Create a soul, etc. See Masson's note for Warburton's 
absurd suggestion as to the origin of this passage, and Trent's note for 
another of the same sort. By all means look up the famous description 
of Death in P. L. ii. 666-673. 

33 568. Lawns. See on DAL 71. 

33 572. By certain signs. Cf 644. 

33 573. Prevent. Anticipate; as often in Shakspere. 

34 585. Period. Sentence. For me, as far as I am concerned. 

34 586-599. Against the threats, etc. " A peculiarly Miltonic pas- 
sage : one of those that ought to be got by heart both on their own 
account and in memory of Milton " (Masson). 

34 591. Meant most harm. Meant to be most harmful. 

34 592. Happy trial. Explain. 

34 598-599. The pillared firmament, etc. What, then, is his con- 
ception of the universe ? Cf. P. R. iv. 455. 

34 603. Legions. A trisyllable. 

34 604. Acheron. A river in Hell, but here put for the whole 
region; cf. P. L. ii. 575 et seq. Todd quotes: "All hell run out, and 
sooty flags display," P. Fletcher, Locusts (1627). 

34 605. Harpies and Hydras. See Class. Diet. 

34 606. 'Twixt Africa and Ind. What have you read about this 
region which would make Milton's reference appropriate ? 

35 607. Purchase. " Acquisition of any kind and by any means " 
(Schmidt). In Cymb. i. 4. 91, the word is used, as here, in the sense of 
" ill-gotten gains." Is there any word in the line which includes the 
sense of back ? Why, then, was the word added ? Can you find any 
other instances of the sort ? 

35 608. The curls. Note the indirect description. What character- 
istic in Comus does this detail bring out ? 

35 610. Emprise. Enterprise. 

35 611. Stead. Help, service. 

35 617. Utmost shifts. See on 273. 

35 619-628. A certain shepherd lad, etc. There is probably a refer- 
ence here to Charles Diodati, Milton's bosom friend, whose death in 1638 
inspired the Epitaphiitm Da??ionis. On Diodati's botanical knowledge, 
see E. D. 1 50-1 54. 

35 620. To see to. To look at ; cf. Ezekiel xxiii. 15. 

35 621. Virtuous. See on // P. 113. 



NOTES. 105 

35 626. Scrip. Wallet, small bag. 

35 627. Simples. Medicinal herbs; cf. K. and J. v. i. 40. 
35 630. But. Effect of using this word here, and in 632, 633 ? 
35 633. Bore. Subject? 

35 634. Like. Correspondingly. 

36 635. Clouted shoon. Shoes "having the sole protected with 
iron plates, or studded with large-headed nails " {New Eng. Diet) ; but 
the meaning may also be " shoes mended with clouts or patches." 
Cf. 2 Hen. VI iv. 2. 195. 

36 636. Moly. Cf. Odyssey x. 28 1 et sea., but especially 302-306: 
" Therewith the slayer of Argos gave me the plant that he had plucked 
from the ground, and he showed me the growth thereof. It was black 
at the root, but the flower was like to milk. Moly the gods call it, but 
it is hard for mortal men to dig ; howbeit with the gods all things are 
possible " (Butcher and Lang). Ulysses used the plant as an antidote 
against Circe's spells. How do you scan this line ? 

36 638. Haemony. There may be here a reference to Hcemonia, an 
old name for Thessaly, the land of magic. For Coleridge's explanation 
of the name, as well as for his very curious allegorical interpretation 
of 11. 629-641, see Letters of S. T. Coleridge (Houghton), Vol. I. pp. 
406-407. *. 

36 639. Sovran. " Supremely medicinal and efficacious " (Schmidt) ; 
as often in Shakspere. 

36 640. Mildew blast. Cf. Ham. iii. 4. 64. 

36 641. Furies. See Class. Diet.; Verity, however, interprets " evil 
fairies." Apparition ; five syllables. 
" 36 642. Little reckoning made. Cf. Lye. 116. 

36 646. Lime-twigs. Snares ; literally twigs smeared with bird- 
lime for catching birds. Shakspere uses the word in 2 Hen. VI. iii. 
3.16. 

36 649. Necromancer. Etymological meaning? 

36 650-652. With dauntless hardihood, etc. So Ulysses sprang 
upon Circe with a drawn sword {Odyssey x. 321-322), and so Gunyon 
broke the glass of Acrasia (F. Q. ii. 12. 57). 

36 653. But seize his wand. Cf. Temp. Hi. 2. 95-103. 

36 655. Vomit smoke. Cf. Virgil, sEneid \'i\i, 252-253 : 

Faucibus ingentem fumum, mirabile dictu, 
Evomit ; 

which is said of the giant Cacus, one of the sons of Vulcan. 



106 NOTES. 

36-37 659-665. Nay, Lady, etc. See Garnett, Milton, p. 54, for a 
similar train of thought in Calderon's Magico Prodigioso, which was 
acted in 1637 but unknown to Milton. A writer in the New Monthly 
Magazine, Vol. VII. p. 227, objects that in the dialogue between Comus 
and the Lady (659-813), " Comus . . . has the poetry, and the lady the 
metaphysics." Do you see any objection to this ? Was there any way 
to avoid this ? 

37 661. Daphne. Daphne, pursued by Apollo, was, at her own 
request, changed into a laurel tree. See Class. Diet. ; note the inver- 
sion in this passage. 

37 664. This corporal rind. " This fleshly nook," // P. 92. 

37 665. While. So long as. 

37 672-675. And first, etc. For arrangement of lines in Cambridge 
MS., see Verity. 

37 672. Julep. Look up etymological meaning of julep and syrup 

(674). 

37 673. His. Its. 

37 675-678. Not that Nepenthes, etc. Cf. Odyssey iv. 220 et sea. s 
" Presently she [Helen] cast a drug into the wine whereof they 
drank, a drug to lull all pain and anger, and bring forgetfulness of 
every sorrow. Whoso should drink a draught thereof, when it is 
mingled in the bowl, on that day he would let no tear fall down his 
cheeks, not though his mother and his father died, not though men 
slew his brother or dear son with the sword before his face, and his 
own eyes beheld it. Medicines of such virtue and so helpful had the 
daughter of Zeus, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, had given her, 
a woman of Egypt" (Butcher and Lang). In his note to Odyssey iv. 
220, Merry says it is impossible to say what this drug (<pdpfiaKou) was. 
" Plutarch thought it only symbolised the glamour of Helen's elo- 
quence : many moderns think it refers to opium." See what Spenser 
says of the drink, F. Q. iv. 3. 43. 

37 679. Why should you, etc. Cf Shakspere, Sonnets i. 8. 

37 680. Which Nature lent. Cf. M.for M. i. 1. 37-41. 

37 6S5. Unexempt condition. Condition from which no one is 
exempt. Condition is a quadrisyllable. 

37 686. Mortal frailty. " Weak mortals : abstract for concrete " 
(Bell). 

37 688. That. The antecedent is you (682). 

38 694. Aspects. Pronounce ; cf R. of L. 452. 

38 695. Oughly-headed. " So in both Milton's editions " (Masson). 



NOTES. 107 

38 698. Vizared falsehood. Explain. 

38 700. Liquorish. Lickerish, tempting to the taste. 

38 702-703. None, etc. Newton traces this thought to Euripides, 
Medea 618. 

38 707. Budge. " Solemn in demeanour, important-looking, pomp- 
ous, stiff, formal " {New Eng. Diet.), though Murray suggests that 
possibly " budge doctor may have originally meant one who wore budge 
fur." This last consisted of lamb's skin with the wool dressed outwards. 

38 708. Cynic tub. The allusion is to the tub of Diogenes, the 
cynic philosopher of Athens. L. 709 explains the reason of Comus's 
opposition to the Stoics and Cynics. 

38 719. Hutched. Shut up as in a hutch. 

39 721. Pulse. Peas, beans, lentils, etc. ; Cf. Daniel i. 8-16. 

39 722. Frieze. A coarse woolen cloth with a shaggy nap on one 
side. 

39 729. Strangled. Suffocated; cf. R. and/, iv. 3. 35. 

39 730. Plumes. Wings. 

39 732. O'erfraught. Over-freighted, over-loaded ; cf. Macb. iv. 3. 
210. 

39-40 739-755. Beauty is Nature's coin, etc. The editors cite 
many parallel passages from the old poets. To take Shakspere alone, 
cf. Sonnets i.-xvii., V. and A. 163-174, M. N. DA. 1. 76-78, and R. and J. 
i. 1. 221-226. 

39 743. If you, etc. Scan this line. 

39 747. Most. The largest number of people. 

39 749. They had, etc. Cf. 325; see on 322. Complexions ; a 
quadrisyllable. 

40 750. Grain. Color ; see on 77 P. 33. What figure do you find 
in this line ? 

40 751. Sampler. Cf. M. N. D. hi. 2. 203-205. Tease, comb or 
card ; a term drawn from the art of cloth-manufacture. 

40 752. Vermeil-tinctured. Vermilion-colored. 

40 753. Love-darting eyes. There is nothing original in this line. 
Sylvester had used " love-darting Eyn " ; Homer also had applied the 
epithet "fair-tressed " (ivirXdKa/jLos) to Dawn, Odyssey v. 390. 

40 755. You are but young yet. " Not only is yet an expletive, and 
makes the verse inharmonious, but the syllables young and yet com- 
ing together would of themselves be intolerable anywhere" (Landor). 
Landor thinks he detects elsewhere an occasional unnecessary word, 
as, for example, in 11. 601, 610, etc. 



108 NOTES. 

40 756-761. I had not, etc. Spoken aside. 

40 758. As mine eyes. What should be supplied after as ? 

40 759. Pranked in reason's garb. Hunter facetiously remarks 
that " Milton had become a modern poet when he wrote ' Thus Belial, 
with w r ords clothed vt\ reason's garb.' " P. L. ii. 226. 

40 760. Bolt. Refine ; the metaphor is from milling. Cf. Cor. iii. 
1. 322. 

40 763. As if she would, etc. For lines on the same model, cf. 
P. L. ix. 249, P. K. i. 302, S. A. 868 ; also see De Quincey, Works 
(Masson), Vol. XI. p. 467, note. 

40 767. Spare Temperance. Cf. II P. 46; contrast 721, above. 

40 76S-774. If every just man, etc. Cf Lear iv. 1. 67-74 (Todd). 

40 773. In unsuperfluous, etc. Scan the line, making proportion a 
quadrisyllable. 

40-41 779-806. Shall I go on, etc. Wanting in Cambridge and 
Bridgewater MSS. 

40-41 780-799. To him that dares, etc. Another recurrence, as 
Masson points out, to the leading doctrine of the masque. See on 
420-475. 

41 783. Yet to what end? Note the use of the Rhetorical 
question. Find other instances. 

41 784. Thou hast nor ear. See on 997. Nor. ..nor, neither. . .nor. 

41 785. Sublime. See on 4. 

41 791. Fence. Art of fencing; referring, of course, to the power of 
fencing with words. 

41 792-799. Thou art not fit, etc. " What a magnificent passage ! 
how little poetry in any language is comparable to this, which closes 
the lady's reply, . . . This is worthy of Shakespeare himself in his 
highest mood, and is unattained and unattainable by any other poet. 
What a transport of enthusiasm ! what a burst of harmony ! He 
who writes one sentence equal to this, will have reached a higher rank 
in poetry than any has done since this was written " (Landor). 

41 793. Uncontrolled. Uncontrollable, and hence irresistible ; as 
in Shakspere. 

41 797. Brute Earth. A translation of brtita tellies, Horace, Odes 
i. 34. 9 (Warton). 

41 800-806. She fables not, etc. Spoken aside. Fables; cf 
1 Hen. VI. iv. 2. 42. 

41 802. And, though, etc. Scan this line; note the transferred 
epithet. 



NOTES. 109 

41 804. Erebus. See Class. Diet. ; on the whole passage, see on 
// P. 30. 

41 808. Canon laws of our foundation. There is an evident 
incongruity in Comus's application of what Keightley has called "the 
language of universities and other foundations." Warburton was so 
impressed with this fact that he wrote " Canon laws, a. joke ! " 

41 809-810. Lees, etc. Todd quotes Nash, Terrors of the Night 
(1594): "The grossest part of our blood is the melancholy humour; 
which, in the spleen congealed (whose office it is to displace it), with 
his thick-steaming fenny vapours casts a mist over the spirit. ... It 
[melancholy] sinketh down to the bottom like the lees of the wine, 
corrupteth all the blood, and is the cause of lunacy." Cf. S. A. 599 et 
sea., Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy, passim . 

41 811. Straight. See on HAL 69. 

42 813. The Brothers rush, etc. In the Cambridge and Bridgewater 
MSS., the Attendant Spirit comes in with the brothers, but his entrance 
after the escape of Comus is more in keeping with the chiding that follows. 

42 814. Have you let, etc. How does the escape of Comus help 
Milton's plot ? 

42 815. Ye should, etc. See 653. 

42 816-817. Without his rod reversed, etc. The traditional method 
of undoing the effects of enchantment; Warton quotes Ovid, Met. 
xiv. 299-301, F. Q. iii. 12. 30 et sea. 

42 822. Meliboeus. Spenser is probably meant, since he told the 
legend of Sabrina (F. Q. ii. 10. 14-19) and answers to the description in 
the next line. Some, however, take Meliboeus to be Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth, from whose Historia Regum Britanniae (1147) Milton after- 
wards drew the story for his own History of Britain (1670). If this 
be so, what follows is sarcasm, for Geoffrey of Monmouth was not a 
shepherd (poet), and was anything but the soothest of men. The name 
Meliboeus is taken from pastoral poetry. 

42 823. Soothest. Truest ; look up etymology. 

42 825. Moist curb. Why the epithet ? 

42 826. Sabrina. The following is the version in Milton's History 
of Britain: "Among the spoils of [Humber's] camp and navy, were 
found certain young maids, and Estrildis above the rest, passing fair, 
the daughter of a king in Germany; from whence Humber, as he went 
wasting the seacoast, had led her captive : whom Locrine, though before 
contracted to the daughter of Corineus, resolves to marry. But being 
forced and threatened by Corineus, whose authority and power he 



110 NOTES. 

feared, Gwendolen the daughter he yields to marry, but in secret loves 
the other : and ofttimes retiring, as to some private sacrifice, through 
vaults and passages made under ground, and seven years thus enjoying 
her, had by her a daughter equally fair, whose name was Sabra. But 
when once his fear was off by the death of Corineus, not content with 
secret enjoyment, divorcing Gwendolen, be makes Estrildis now his 
queen. Gwendolen, all in a rage, departs into Cornwall, where Madan, 
the son she had by Locrine, was hitherto brought up by Corineus his 
grandfather. And gathering an army of her father's friends and sub- 
jects, gives battle to her husband by the river Sture ; wherein Locrine, 
shot with an arrow, ends his life. But not so ends the fury of Gwen- 
dolen ; for Estrildis, and her daughter Sabra, she throws into a river : 
and, to leave a moment of revenge, proclaims that the stream be thence- 
forth called after the damsel's name ; which, by length of time, is 
changed now to Sabrina, or Severn." — Prose Works of Milton (Phila- 
delphia, 1856), Vol. II. p. 203. 

42 832. His. Its. 

42 835. Nereus. See Class. Diet. 

42 836. Lank. Drooping. . 

43 83S. Nectared lavers. Explain. Asphodil ; in Greek mythology, 
Asphodel was the pale flower of Hades and the dead ; in modern times, 
we have daffodil and daffy downdilly corrupted from asphodil. 

43 839. Porch. Cf. Ham. i. 5. 63. 

43 841. A quick immortal change. See on 10. 

43 845. Urchin blasts. Blights (upon corn, cattle, etc.) sent by 
the hedgehog, or, possibly, since mischievous elves were supposed to 
assume the shape of the hedgehog, the injuries done by bad fairies. 
Cf Temp. ii. 2. 1-14. 

43 846. The shrewd meddling elf. " Hardly Robin Goodfellow, 
but one of his fraternity" (Masson). See on VAl. 105. 

43 850. Throw sweet garland wreaths, etc. Cf Spenser, Protha- 
lamion. 

43 852. The old swain. Meliboeus (822) ; but neither Spenser nor 
Monmouth has this detail. Drayton, however, says that Sabrina was 

" by Nereus taught, the most profoundly wise, 
That learned her the skill of hidden prophecies, 
By Thetis' special care" {Polyolbion, fifth song). 

43 863. Amber-dropping hair. " Hair of amber color with the 
waterdrops falling through it " (Masson). 



NOTES. Ill 

43 865. Goddess of the silver lake. Cf. 842. 

44 867-SS9. Listen, etc. Many of the epithets in these lines can 
be traced to classical writers. The following mythological allusions 
may be noted : Oceanus, the god of the great ocean-stream which was 
anciently supposed to encircle the earth, was the founder of the older 
dynasty of the sea; Neptune, god of the sea after Saturn was over- 
thrown, was the founder of the younger dynasty ; Tethys was the wife 
of Oceanus ; Nereus was the father of the Nereids ; the Carpathian 
wizard was Proteus, who had the prophetic gift and could change his 
shape at will; Triton, the son of Neptune and Amphitrite, was the 
trumpeter of the ocean, and with his sea-shell could stir up or allay 
the waves ; Glancus was the Boeotian fisherman, who, having eaten a 
certain herb, was changed into a sea-god with prophetic powers; 
Leiccothea was Ino, the daughter of Cadmus, and who, in order to 
escape her mad husband Athamas, plunged into the sea with her son 
Melicertes and became a sea-goddess ; her son was the above-mentioned 
Melicertes who, after he became a sea-god, was called Palaemon ; Thetis, 
one of the daughters of Nereus, is best known as the mother of Achilles ; 
the Sirens were those whose sweet singing drew seafarers to their 
destruction; Parthenope and Ligea were sirens (see on 253). 

44 8S0. Ligea's golden comb. Keightley observes that the comb 
belongs to the mermaids of the Northern mythology, rather than to the 
sirens of Greek mythology. 

44 891. Grows. See on Lye. 7. 

44 893. Azurn. Azure ; the form seems to be peculiar to Milton. 

44 894. Turkis. Turquoise. 

45 897. Printless feet. Cf. Temp. v. 1. 34. The idea of a light 
tread is a common one in poetry. 

45 S98. Velvet head. Cf. Fletcher, The Faithful Shepherdess ii. 1 : 

" See the dew-drops how they kiss 
Every little flower that is ; 
Hanging on their velvet heads, 
Like a rope of crystal beads." 

As Browne notes, there are many resemblances between this part of 
Comus and Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess. 

45 904. To undo, etc. Cf. 852-853. 

45 914. Thrice. Masson quotes Browne's Inner Temple Masque, 
where Circe rouses Ulysses from sleep : 



112 NOTES. 

" Thrice I charge thee by my wand ; 
Thrice with moly from my hand 
Do I touch Ulysses' eyes," etc. 

On the use of odd numbers, see my edition of The A7icient Mariner 
(The Macmillan Company), pp. 72-73. 

45 916. This marble venomed seat. See stage-direction at 658. 

45 919. His. Its. 

45 921. Amphitrite. The wife of Neptune ; see on 867-889. 

45 923. Anchises' line. Legend had it that Anchises was the 
father of ^Eneas, who was the father of Ascanius, who was the father 
of Silvias, who was the father of Brutus (see 828)', who was the 
father of Locrine. 

46 924-937. May thy brimmed waves, etc. " The whole of this 
poetical blessing on the Severn and its neighbourhood, involving at the 
end, though in purposely gorgeous language, the wish of what we should 
call ' solid commercial prosperity,' would go to the heart of the assem- 
blage at Ludlow " (Masson). Note the beauty and effectiveness of the 
epithet brimmed. 

46 927. The snowy hills. The Welsh mountains. 
46 929. Thy tresses fair. Alluding to what ? 

46 932-937. May thy billows, etc. " Here Milton's glance seems 
to quiver irregularly along the course of the Severn : first taking it at 
its mouth in Gloucestershire, where it opens into a sea-firth, and where 
alone it could be properly said to have ' billows ' ; then mounting to its 
1 lofty head ' in Welsh Plinlimmon, and following it thence through 
Montgomeryshire to Shrewsbury and so through the rest of its curve " 
(Masson). The construction of the last two lines is difficult, but the 
thought probably is : " And may thy head be crowned here and there 
upon thy banks with groves of myrrh and cinnamon." The reader 
should keep in mind both the literal and figurative signification of the 
whole speech. 

47 956. The stars grow high. Explain. Note the time indicated 
in 1. 957. Is there any reason for the length of that line ? 

47 959. Sun-shine holiday. Cf. UAL 98. 

47 961. Other trippings. Note the contrast between the two styles 
of dances. 

47 966-975. Noble Lord, etc. " Imagine the cheering when Lawes, 
advancing with the three young ones, addressed this speech to the Earl 
and Countess of Bridgewater, they perhaps rising and bowing. When 
the speech was ended, there was more dancing, in which other ladies 



NOTES. 113 

and gentlemen, we are to suppose, figured with Lady Alice and her 
Brothers ; after which nothing remained but Lawes's Epilogue " 
(Masson). 

47 972. Assays. Trials. 

48 976-979. To the ocean, etc. For rhythm and rhyme, Masson 
compares Temp. v. i. 88-91. There seems to be a kindred between 
Milton's Attendant Spirit, as he is represented in this portion of the 
Masque (976-1023), and Shakspere's Ariel (Temp.) and Puck (M. N 
£>.). 

48 979. The broad fields of the sky. Cf. Virgil, ^neid vi. 888 : 
Aeris in campis latis (Warton). 

48 9S2-983. The gardens, etc. See on 393 ; the numbers and 
names of the daughters of Hesperus are variously given. Golden tree ; 
Milton may call the tree golden merely because of the fruit (cf. 394), 
but if he means the tree itself he has Ovid (Met. iv. 637) as his 
authority. 

48 984. Crisped. Curled ; by the wind ruffling the leaves. Cf.P.L. 
iv. 237. Elton, however, suggests that the idea may be "curled . . . 
as in spring, when the leaves are unfolding." 

48 990. Cedarn. First used by Milton ; the word has been used 
with fine effect by some modern poets, as, for example, by Coleridge, in 
Kubla Khan, by Tennyson, in Recollections of the Arabian Nights, by 
Arnold, in The New Sirens, and by Whittier, in The Poet and the 
Children. 

48 992. Bow. The rainbow, of which Iris was the goddess. See 
on 83. 

48 993. Blow. Cause to bloom ; more frequently used as in Lye. 48. 

48 995. Purfled. Define. 

48 997. If your ears be true. If your ears be attuned ; cf Arcades 
72-73, M. of V. v. 1. 64-65. 

48 999-1000. Where young Adonis, etc. Adonis, who was beloved 
of Venus, identified below with the Assyrian queen, Astarte, was said to 
have been slain by a wild boar. There also seems to be a reference 
here to the Garden of Adonis, described with so much beauty in the 
F. Q. iii. 6. 29 et seq., and referred to later by Milton in P. L. ix. 439- 
441. Cf. Bion's Lament for Adonis and Shakspere's Venus and Adonis. 

49 1005. Psyche. For the myth of Cupid and Psyche, and its 
allegorical interpretation, see Class. Diet. See Beers, Hist, of Eng. 
Rom., p. 16; a number of valuable references will be found in Gayley, 
Classic Myths in English Literature. 



114 NOTES. 

49 1011. Youth and Joy. Later in life, when Milton wrote his 
Apology for Smectymnuus, he made " Knowledge and Virtue " the off- 
spring of Psyche's divine generation. 

49 1015. Bowed welkin. Arched sky. 

49 1016-1017. And from thence, etc. Cf. M. N. D. iv. i. 1 01-102, 
ii. 1. 175; Macb. iii. 5. 23-25. 

49 1017. Corners. Horns (Latin cornud). 

49 1021. The sphery chime. The music of the spheres; on this 
peculiar use of the adjective, which is common enough in Shakspere, 
see Schmidt, p. 141 5 et seq. 

49 1022-1023. Or, if Virtue, etc. When at Geneva in 1639, Milton 
wrote the following autograph (all in his own hand except the date) in 

an album : 

" — if Vertue feeble were 
Heaven it selfe would stoope to her. 
Caelum non animum muto dum trans mare curro. 

Joannes Miltonius. 
Junii 10, 1639. Anglus." 

" If we combine the English lines with the Latin addition, it is as if he 
said ' The closing words of my own Comus are a permanent maxim 
with me'" (Masson). 



NOTES. 115 



LYCIDAS. 



Lycidas was written to commemorate the death of Edward King, one 
of Milton's friends at Cambridge. His father, Sir John King, was a 
member of the Privy Council of Ireland and Secretary of the Irish 
Viceregal Government. Although Edward King proved to be a young 
man of considerable promise, it is quite probable that no small part of 
his popularity at Christ's College, where he was admitted June 9, 1626, 
as well as of his success in securing a Fellowship, assigned to him by a 
royal mandate June 10, 1630, was due to his high social standing. The 
Fellowship, in fact, would very likely have gone to Milton, if the matter 
had been decided according to merit. King took the degree of M.A. 
in July, 1633, became a Tutor in his college, and was "praelector" in 
1634-1635. In the summer vacation of 1637, he prepared to go by 
ship from Chester Bay to Dublin. But the vessel had proceeded only 
a short distance when it struck a rock and went down. Among the 
passengers who were drowned — and only a few seem to have escaped 
— 'Was Edward King. 

In the autumn of that year, when King's friends learned of his death, 
it was proposed to issue from the university press a volume of memorial 
verses. To this end Milton wrote Lycidas in November, 1637, although 
the volume itself did not appear until 1638. The book was made up 
of two parts, the one containing twenty-three pieces in Latin and Greek, 
and the other, thirteen in English. Last of all came Milton's poem, 
signed with only the poet's initials, " J. M." Prefixed to the Latin and 
Greek portion of the volume there was an account in Latin of the 
manner of King's death. Here is a portion of Masson's translation of 
it: '"Edward King (son of John, knight, and Privy Councillor for the 
Kingdom of Ireland to their Majesties, Elizabeth, James, and Charles), 
Fellow of Christ's College in the University of Cambridge, happy in 
the consciousness and in the fame of piety and erudition, and one in 
whom there was nothing immature except his age, was on a voyage to 
Ireland, drawn by natural affection to visit his native country, his rela- 
tives and his friends, . . . when, the ship in which he was having struck 
on a rock, not far from the British coast, and being stove in by the 
shock, he, while the other passengers were fruitlessly busy about their 
mortal lives, having fallen on his knees, and breathing a life which 
was immortal, in the act of prayer going down with the vessel, rendered 



116 NOTES. 

up his soul to God, Aug. 10, 1637, aged 25." 1 Lycidas was reprinted 
in the 1647 an d 1673 editions of Milton's poems, and in 1645 tne su ^" 
title, " In this Monody," etc., was first added. 

50 1. Yet once more. Milton had not, so far as is known, written 
any poetry since Comus (1634), but whether the present phrase refers 
merely to Comus, or to his previous elegiac poems, or is simply a sort 
of formula to signify the beginning of a new poem, we can only conjec- 
ture. The laurel, the myrtle, and the ivy seem to be symbolical of 
poetry in general, although some editors give to each plant a particular 
significance. It has also been observed that, as the plants are ever- 
greens, they may be regarded as emblems of immortality. What reason 
can you assign for the omission of the rhyme in 11. 1, 13, 15, 22, 39 
51, 82, 91, 92, 161 ? What other peculiarity do you notice about the 
rhymes in this poem ? 

50 2. Brown. Dusky, dark; cf. II P. 134. See Ruskin, Modem 
Painters, Vol. III. chap. 15. Sere, dry; cf. Shakspere's exquisite use of 
the word in Macb. v. 3. 23. 

50 3. Crude. Unripe. 

50 4. Forced. Unwilling; explained in 6-7. 

50 5. Shatter. Scatter. Before the mellowing year ; here, as in 
the last two lines, Milton alludes to his own lack of " inward ripeness " 
(see sonnet written at the age of twenty-three) for undertaking the high 
calling of poet, which from various sources we know he regarded with 
a veneration that fell little short of worship. He even emphasizes this 
thought to the neglect of his figure, which, if curiously examined, will 
be found wanting in accuracy. 

50 6. Sad occasion dear. For the word order, see on UAL 4c. 
The sad occasion is probably called dear because it touches the poet 
" nearly." This meaning of the word is common enough in Elizabethan 
English, and we often find it applied to that which is disagreeable, as, 
for example, in Ham. i. 2. 182. 

50 7. Compels. On the use of a singular verb with two singular 
nouns as subject, see Abbott, § 336. Due, proper. 

50 S. Lycidas. In taking a name from ancient pastoral poetry (cf 
Theocritus, Idyl vii., Virgil, Eclogue ix.) and applying it to his friend, 
Edward King, Milton adopts the conventional method of treating his 

1 Another account, quoted by Todd from a preface by W. Hogg (1694), stated " that 
' some escaped in the boat,' and that they vainly tried to get King into it, so that he and 
the rest were drowned, ' except those only who escaped in the boat ' " (Jerram). 



NOTES. 117 

subject. Ere his prime ; being only twenty-five years old. Note the 
repetition in this and the succeeding verse ; cf. Death of a Fair Infant 
25-26, and Spenser, Astrophel 7-8: 

" Young Astrophel, the pride of shepheards praise, 
Young Astrophel, the rusticke lasses love." 

50 10. Who would not sing, etc. Cf Virgil, Eclogue x. 3 : neget 
quis cannina Gallo? He knew ; cf C. 87. 

50 11. Rhyme. Verse. Only a few Latin pieces written by King 
have come down to us, and they are said not to justify the praise here 
accorded him ; but Milton may have seen other specimens of his com- 
position of which we know nothing. On this subject, see Masson, Vol. 
I. pp. 188-1S9. For the metaphor, Newton compares Horace, Epist. i. 
3. 24 : sen condis amabile carmen, and Kurd compares Euripides, Suppli- 
ces 998 : aotdas eirvpyojcre (quoted by Masson). 

50 13. Welter to. Explain. 

50 14. Melodious tear. Melody accompanied by tears. As tear 
was not infrequently used of elegiac poems, the epithet melodious may 
properly describe it. Cf Milton's Epitaph on the Marchioness of Win- 
chester 55, and Spenser's The Teares of the Muses. The present line 
has been frequently imitated by poets since Milton. 

50 15. Begin, then, etc. This invocation of the Muses is in the 
customary manner of pastoral poets. Well, spring; in this case, the 
Pierian spring at the foot of Mt. Olympus in Thessaly seems to be 
meant. Mt. Olympus was the Homeric abode {seat) of Jove and the 
birthplace of the nine Muses, or Sisters of the sacred well. But see 
Jerram and Hales. 

50 17. Somewhat loudly, etc. Cf Drummond, Elegy on Gtistavus 
Adolphus (quoted by Todd) : 

" Speak it again, and louder louder yet ; 
Else while we hear the sound we shall forget 
What it delivers." 

Explain the figurative use of string. 

50 19. Muse. Poet. 

50 20. My destined urn. " I have ventured to italicise the word 
my in this passage, to bring out fully the meaning" (Masson). Urn, 
tomb; cf. Cor. v. 6. 146. The word, however, may be used in its ordi- 
nary sense of " a receptacle for the ashes of the dead." Lucky words ; 
explain. 



118 NOTES. 

50 22. Shroud. Winding-sheet, although others variously inter- 
pret it "grave" (Dunster, referred to by Todd), "coffin^" (Hales), or 
" the darkness in which I am shrouded " (Bell). The word is used by 
Milton in Nat. 218, C. 147, and P. L. x. 1068. It seems best, with Todd 
and others, to make the paragraph end with this line, instead of 1. 24, 
as in Milton's own editions. 

51 23-36. For we were nursed, etc. Under the guise of pastoral 
language Milton now describes his companionship with King at Christ's 
College, Cambridge. While this is a passage where " more is meant 
than meets the ear," it would be absurd to insist on finding a hidden 
meaning in every pastoral ,phrase. Some of the details were doubtless 
put in because the conventional treatment of the subject seemed to 
require them. 

51 25. Lawns. See on VAl. 71. 

51 26. The opening eyelids of the Morn. This fine phrase, often 
repeated or imitated by other poets, was traced by Todd to Job iii. 9 
(marginal reading) ; also cf. Job xli. 18. Milton, it should be remem- 
bered, was habitually an early riser, and so became acquainted with the 
beauties of the morning. CJ. VAl. 41-6S, P. L. v. 1-25, ix. 192-200. 
Observe how the other two periods of the day are indicated in 28, 29-31. 

51 27. Drove. Drove our flocks ; but the verb may be intransitive. 
AJield ; see on VAl. 20. For Johnson's unappreciative comment on 
this and the two following lines, as well as on the whole poem, see his 
life of Milton in Lives of the Poets. 

51 28. What time. See on C. 291. Grey-jly, " a species of CEstrus, 
also known as the trumpet-fly, from its sultry horn, or loud humming 
in the heat of the day " (Rolfe). , , / 

51 29. Battening. Fattening. Fresh dews, etc. ; Jerram cites Virgil, 
Eclogue viii. 1 5, Georgics iii. 324-326. 

51 30-31. Oft till the star, etc. "The evening star appears, not 
rises, and is never anywhere but on Heaven's descent " (Keightley, 
quoted by Browne). Spenser, however, made the same mistake in F. Q. 
iii. 4. 51, and Jerram finds some classical authority for the error. For 
other references to Hesperus, see Orchard, Astronomy of Milton's ' Par- 
adise Lost,'' pp. 277-281. 

51 32. Rural ditties. If Masson is right in interpreting these as 
" academic iambics and elegiacs," what poems, in Milton's case, would 
they include? For King's work, see on 11. 

5133. Tempered. Attuned. Oaten flute, shepherd's pipe ; cf 88, 
188, C. 345 and note. Jerram has a long note here, in which he shows 



NOTES. 119 

that although " the oaten pipe has been chosen by English poets as the 
representative of pastoral music, the classical authority for such usage 
is more than doubtful." 

51 34. Rough Satyrs, etc. See Class. Diet. ; cf. Hawthorne's 
Marble Fatin. 

51 36. Damcetas. Another name taken from pastoral poetry ; cf. 
Theocritus, Idyl vi., etc. While it is impossible positively to identify 
old Damcetas with any particular person, most editors find in the name 
an allusion to Mr. Chappell, the tutor with whom Milton had the trouble 
which resulted in his temporary rustication. If this is true, Jerram may 
be right in supposing that the satyrs and fauns may represent " the 
wilder and less studious undergraduates of Christ's," though this seems 
to be carrying the interpretation of the passage to a dangerous extreme. 

51 37. But, Oh! etc. "Milton, before making the echoes mourn 
for Lycidas, puts our feelings in tune, as it were, and hints at his own 
imagination as the source of this emotion in inanimate things." — 
Lowell, Works (Houghton), Vol. IV. p. 29. 

51 38. Must. " Perhaps there is a fine courtesy in the use of this 
word here instead of ' mayest.' The poet, having to say that his friend 
will never return, says that, ' he is not compelled to return,' rather than 
' he is not permitted to return.' Or perhaps must = art appointed or 
ordained " (Hales). 

51 39. Thee, Shepherd, etc. What is the effect of the repetition 
in this line ? Cf. F. Q. iv. 10. 44, Virgil, Georgics iv. 466, etc. 

51 40. Gadding. Straggling. Browne quotes Marvell, Appleton 
House : " Curl me about, ye gadding vines." 

51 41. Mourn. An example of what Ruskin calls the " Pathetic 
fallacy"; see Modern Painters, Vol. III. chap. 12. 

51 44. Fanning. Moving like fans ; cf. P. L. iv. 157. 

51 45. Canker. The canker-worm; cf T. G. of V. i. 1. 43, etc. 

51 47. Wardrobe. Explain the figure. 

51 48. White-thorn. The hawthorn ; cf. VAl. 68. 

51 49. Such. Explain the force of this word. 

51-52 50-55. Where were ye, etc. In imitation of Theocritus, Idyl 
i. 66-69, an d Virgil, Eclogue x. 9-12. Milton followed Theocritus in 
selecting for the haunts of the nymphs such places as were near the 
scene of Lycidas's disaster, and Virgil in identifying the nymphs with 
the Muses. Of the two imitations of Theocritus, Virgil's and Milton's, 
that of Milton is immeasurably the superior. 

51 52. Steep. Probably Kerig-y-Druidion in Denbighshire (War- 



120 NOTES. 

ton), though Keightley suggests Penmaenmawr in Carnarvonshire, oppo- 
site Anglesey. 

52 54. Mona. The island of Anglesey, in whose oak groves the 
Druids in olden times conducted their mystic rites. 

52 55. Deva. The river Dee, which once formed a part of the 
boundary between England and Wales, is called a wizard stream 
because it was supposed to be frequented by wizards. Of the many 
superstitions connected with the river, one supposed that it boded ill 
to the people of the country toward which it changed its course. On 
this last point, see Morris and Skeat, Specimens of Early English, Pt. 
II. p. 240. Cf. Vacation Exercise 98. 

52 56. Fondly. Foolishly ; see on // P. 6. 

52 57. For. This depends on fondly. In his treatment of the 
figures of contrast, Gummere observes that " the most abrupt contrast 
arises when the construction comes suddenly to an end, is broken off 
violently, and a new sentence begins in a new direction. The famous 
Vergilian example is where Neptune rebukes the winds, and begins to 
threaten, but leaves the threat unfinished : — 

' Quos ego — sed motos prrestat componere fluctus.' " 

Handbook of Poetics, p. 125. 

52 58. The Muse. Calliope. For the story of Orpheus's death, see 
Class. Diet. ; the legend is repeated in P. L. vii. 32-39. 

52 59. Enchanting son. See the song in Hen. VIII. hi. 1. 3-14. 

52 61. Rout. Cf. P. L. i. 747. 

52 63. Swift Hebrus. Milton seems to have followed Virgil, 
sEneid i. 317: volucrem Hebrum, but Servius's remark that the river 
quietissimus est has led to a deal of discussion among Milton's editors. 
Lesbian shore ; "According to common tradition the head of Orpheus 
was carried by the waves to Lesbos, and there buried, for which pious 
office the Lesbians were rewarded with the gift of preeminence in song " 
(Jerram). 

52 64. Boots. Avails. Uncessant ; so in Milton's first and second 
editions (Masson). LI. 64-84 constitute one of the two long digressions 
in the poem, the other being 11. 113-131. After you have carefully 
studied the whole poem, read again these two passages, and try to 
determine whether the poem would be the better or the worse for 
their omission. 

52 65. To tend, etc. To practise poetry; as Hales notes, the 
metaphor is used in a different sense in 113-131. Homelyn define. 



NOTES. 121 

52 66. Meditate the . . . Muse. The phrase is from Virgil, 
Eclogue \. 2 : Silvestrem tenue musam meditaris avena ; see on C 547. 
Thankless, profitless ; some editors, however, take Muse to be personi- 
fied, in which case thankless = ungrateful. 

52 68-69. Amaryllis . . . Neaera. These are names of shepherd- 
esses in pastoral poetry. Here they may be said to represent a life 
of luxury and its attendant follies, a life to which Milton, the advo- 
cate and living example of " labour and intense study," was so much 
opposed. This seems to me a more natural interpretation than that 
which supposes that Milton is alluding to the amatory poetry then so 
fashionable. 

52 70. Clear. Illustrious, noble (Latin clarus). In his Adonais, 
Shelley speaks of Milton's clear Sprite: 

" He died, 
Who was the Sire of an immortal strain, 
Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride, 
The priest, the slave, and the liberticide, 
Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite 
Of lust and blood ; he went, unterrified, 
Into the gulf of death ; but his clear Sprite 
Yet reigns o'er earth ; the third among the sons of light." 

52 71. That last infirmity, etc. The sentiment here expressed is 
a common one; as one instance out of many, cf. Tacitus, Hist. iv. 6: 
etiam sapientibus cupido glorice novissima exuitur. See the discussion 
on " glory," P. R. iii. 25 et sea. 

52 72. To scorn delights, etc. This line is admirably descriptive 
of Milton's own life. 

52 75. The blind Fury. The poet purposely calls Atropos, one of 
the three Fates, " the blind Fury," because in her indiscriminate disre- 
gard for the value of life she acted with all the cruelty of a Fury. For 
the individual occupations of Atropos and her sisters, see Class. Diet., 
and, if possible, some reproduction of Michael Angelo's " The Fates." 
There is a reproduction of the latter in Gayley, Classic Myths. 

52 76. Slits. The ordinary meaning ? But not the praise ; explain 
the zeugma. What effect is gained by omitting the verb ? 

52 77. Touched my trembling ears. From Virgil, Eclogue vi. 3-4 : 

Cum canerem reges et froelia, Cynthius aurem 
Vellit, et admonuit ; 



122 NOTES. 

where Conington observes that touching the ear was a symbolical act, 
the ear being regarded as the seat of memory. In the present instance, 
then, it is to remind the poet of something he has forgotten. But 
Masson thinks Milton alludes to the " popular humour that the tingling 
of a person's ears is a sign that somewhere people are talking of him 
and saying good or ill of him in his absence. . . . What Milton had 
been saying about poetic fame was evidently applicable to himself 
personally, and would, he saw, be so understood by his readers." 

52 80. Set off to the world. Does this limit Fame ox foil? Show 
clearly what the meaning would be in each case. Nor . . . nor, neither 
. . . nor. 

52 81. By. By means of; though some editors take it to mean 
"hard by," "near," "in the presence of." Spreads ; cf. 78. 

53 85. fountain Arethuse, etc. Arethusa, a fountain in Sicily, 
represents the pastoral poetry written by Theocritus and other Greek 
poets, while the Mincius, near which Virgil was born, represents the 
pastoral poetry written by the Latin poets. For the pretty myth con- 
nected with Arethusa, see Class. Diet. In his description of the Min r 
cius, Milton follows Virgil. Honoured by Virgil's poetry. 

53 87. That strain, etc. Cf. 76-84. Mood, "'character,' from 
modus, signifying a particular arrangement of intervals in the musical 
scale. . . . The word has nothing to do with a ' mood ' or state of mind" 
(Jerram). 

53 88. My oat. See on 33. 

53 89. The Herald of the Sea. Triton, the son of Neptune, was 
the trumpeter of the ocean, and raised or calmed the waves by blowing 
on his "winding shell" {concha). Cf. C. 873. 

53 90. In Neptune's plea. Editors are divided as to the meaning 
of plea. Some, with Keightley, think the word refers to a judicial 
inquiry into the cause of Lycidas's death to be held by Triton for Nep- 
tune, while others think it means nothing more than the defense made 
by Neptune through Triton. 

53 91. Felon winds. Why the epithet ? 

53 92. What hard mishap, etc. This is the actual question put by 
Triton. 

53 93. Gust of rugged wings. Explain ; cf. P. L. xi. 738-740. 
Every . . . each ; see on C. 19. 

53 96. Hippotades. ^Eolus ; see Class. Diet. 

53 97. His. This may refer to Hippotades, or it may be the equiva- 
lent of its. It is not likely that bla~sl is personified. 



NOTES. 123 

53 98. Level brine. What does the epithet imply ? See on 99. 

53 99. Panope. One of the fifty daughters of Nereus ; it is sig- 
nificant that the name (liavbir-q), as Jerram remarks, denotes " a wide 
view." 

53 100. It was, etc. "Curiously enough, the poem in the Cam- 
bridge collection by Edward King's brother implies that the vessel 
struck on a rock during a gale. . . . Probably Henry King was better 
informed as to the details of the shipwreck than Milton could be. 
Nowhere else is there a hint that the ship was simply unseaworthy " 
(Verity). 

53 101. Built in the eclipse. Many passages might be quoted 
from Greek and Roman writers, as well as from those of later ages, to 
show that eclipses were regarded with superstitious awe. It was thought 
that anything done during an eclipse, especially if it was an eclipse of 
the moon, was bound to have an unlucky end. See Brand, Popular 
Antiquities; cf. P. L. i. 596-599. Rigged with curses dark. What do 
you understand by this ? 

53 103. Next, Camus, etc. The tutelary genius of the river Cam 
and 'of Cambridge University. Masson quotes a Latin note to a Greek 
translation of Lycidas by Mr. John Plumtre, which explains the charac- 
teristic garb of Camus : " The mantle is as if made of the plant ' river- 
sponge ' which floats copiously in the Cam ; the bonnet of the river-sedge, 
distinguished by vague marks traced somehow over the middle of the 
leaves, and serrated at the edge of the leaves, after the fashion of the 
at at of the hyacinth." Footing slow ; cf. F. Q. i. 3. 10: "A damzell 
spyde slow footing her before." 

53 105. Figures dim. Warburton thought there was an allusion 
here to the "fabulous traditions of the high antiquity of Cambridge," 
but Todd reports Dunster as remarking " that on sedge leaves, or flags, 
when dried or even beginning to wither, there are not only certain dim, 
or indistinct, and dusky streaks, but also a variety of dotted marks 
{scrawl' d over, as Milton had at first written,) on the edge, which withers 
before the rest of the flag." 

53 106. That sanguine flower, etc. The hyacinth is meant. The 
marks on the edge of the sedge (see on 105) Milton identifies with 
the at at {alas ! alas I) which the Greeks fancied they saw on the petals 
of the hyacinth, and which they supposed commemorated the death of 
Hyacinthus, the youth from whose blood (hence sanguine) they thought 
the flower had sprung. See Class. Diet. ; cf. Death of a Fair Infant 
23-27. 



124 NOTES. 

53 107. Pledge. Child ; so pignus in Latin. 

53 108. Last came, etc. For Pattison's comment on the passage 
which this line introduces, see Introduction, p. xvii. 

53 109. The Pilot of the Galilean Lake. St. Peter, who is intro- 
duced as the representative of the Church. In the gospel narrative 
Peter is nowhere spoken of as a pilot, and the meaning here probably 
is that he was the steersman of his own ship, a sense in which Jerram 
reminds us pilot is often used. It will be remembered that King had 
intended to enter the ministry of the Church of England. 

53 110. Two massy keys, etc. Cf. Matt. xvi. 19; it was tradition, 
not Scripture, which made the number of the keys two. 

53 112. His mitred locks. Why mitred? 

53-54 113-131. How well, etc. In order to understand the signifi- 
cance of this speech, it is necessary to know something of the political 
and religious condition of England about the time Lycidas was written. 
See Green, Short History of the English People, Gardiner, The Puritan 
Revolution. How many, and what grounds of complaint does Milton 
here urge against the clergy ? 

53 115. Creep, and intrude, and climb. Ruskin, in his Sesame and 
Lilies, observes that these three verbs " exhaustively comprehend the 
three classes, correspondent to the three characters, of men who dis- 
honestly seek ecclesiastical power. First, those who ' creep ' into the 
fold ; who do not care for office, nor name, but for secret influence, and 
do all things occultly and cunningly, consenting to any servility of office 
or conduct, so only that they may intimately discern, and unawares 
direct, the minds of men. Then those who 'intrude' (thrust, that is) 
themselves into the fold, who by natural insolence of heart, and stout 
eloquence of tongue, and fearlessly perseverant self-assertion, obtain 
hearing and authority with the common crowd. Lastly, those who 
' climb,' who by labour and learning, both stout and sound, but self- 
ishly exerted in the cause of their own ambition, gain high dignities 
and authorities, and become ' lords over the heritage,' though not 
'ensamples to the flock.'" 

54 117. Shearers' feast. What do you understand by this? 
54 118. The worthy bidden guest. Cf Matt. xxii. 8. 

54 119. Blind mouths ! An exceedingly bold figure, which may, 
however, be supported by classical authority. There is even classical 
authority (cf. Horace, Sat. ii. 2. 39-40) for the figure that follows, by which 
mouths are made to hold A sheep-hook, — an idea which Landor thought 
'" a fitter representation of the shepherd's dog than of the shepherd." 



NOTES. 125 

Ruskin, nevertheless, finds much to admire in the figure. He says "its 
very audacity and pithiness are intended to make us look close at the 
phrase and remember it. Those two monosyllables express the pre- 
cisely accurate contraries of right character, in the two great offices 
of the Church — those of bishop and pastor. A 'Bishop' means a 
'person who sees.' A 'Pastor' means a 'person who feeds.' The 
most unbishoply character a man can have is therefore to be Blind. 
The most unpastoral is, instead of feeding, to want to be fed, — to 
be a Mouth. Take the two reverses together, and you have ' blind 
mouths.' " See Sesame and Lilies for Ruskin's further comment on 
this figure, as well as on the whole passage, 11. 1 08-1 31. 

54 122. They are sped. They are provided for. 

54 123. When they list. That is, only when they please. Lean ; 
meaning here ? Flashy ; the word is here used in the same sense in 
which Bacon uses it in his essay Of Studies, where he speaks of distilled 
books as being "like common distilled waters, flashy things," i.e., "in- 
sipid," " tasteless." The word is quite distinct from our flashy, showy. 

54 124. Scrannel. "Slight; slender; thin; squeaking" {Cent. 
Diet?). What is the effect of the combination of consonants in this 
line ? 

54 126. Wind and the rank mist, etc. Unsound and unwhole- 
some doctrines. Draw, inhale. 

54 128. The grim wolf. The Church of Rome, which at that time 
was winning to itself many converts. Jerram notes that " the simile of 
wolves and sheep assumes three distinct forms in the New Testament 
— (1) the wolf in sheep's clothing (Matt. vii. 15), who enters the fold 
under false pretences ; (2) the shepherd who for his rapacity is said to 
devour the sheep (Acts xx. 29) ; (3) the real wolf, prowling outside the 
fold and seeking an entrance. The last appears to be the one here 
intended." 

54 129. And nothing said. That is, the clergy say nothing against 
this system of proselytism ; see on 128. 

54 130-131. That two-handed engine, etc. This is the crux of the 
poem. Our first concern must be to get the general meaning of the 
passage. This is, " But the instrument of retribution is at hand and is 
ready once for all to smite the corrupt Church." The engine (literally, 
" something skillful ") is called two-handed because it is wielded with 
two hands. All this is clear. The difficulty comes in getting anything 
more definite out of the expression two-handed engine. If Milton in- 
tended to convey to our minds any particular image, which is doubtful, 



126 NOTES. 

Jerram's explanation is as good as any, namely, that Milton is here using 
the familiar simile of the axe " laid unto the root of the trees " {Matt. 
iii. 10, etc.). Other editors have sought to identify the two-handed 
engine with (2) the axe with which Laud was beheaded in 1645 5 (3) tne 
sword of the Archangel Michael (P. L. vi. 250-253); (4) the "sharp 
twoedged sword" of Rev. i. 16, ii. 12-16; (5) the English Parliament 
with its two Houses (Masson); (6) the scythe of the executioner Death ; 
(7) the two-handed sword of romance (Warburton); (8) the sword of 
Justice (Verity); (9) the civil and ecclesiastical powers; and (10) "the 
sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God" (Ephesians vi. 17), 
which we wield by " a double grip, on the Old Testament and on the 
New" (Morley). 

54 132. Alpheus. The river-god who pursued Arethusa. See 
Class. Diet.-, cf. 85. As Alpheus symbolizes pastoral poetry, Milton 
now returns, after his digression in 11. 108-131, to his proper theme. 
The dread voice ; cf. 112. 

54 133. Sicilian Muse. The muse of Theocritus, but here, perhaps, 
merely a general designation of pastoral poetry. 

54 134. Hither. See 151. 

54 136. Use. Haunt. The meaning is, "where the mild whispers 
of shades, etc., haunt." Can you explain how zise came to have this 
meaning ? 

54 137. Wanton winds. See on UAL 26-28. 

54 13S. The swart star. Sirius, the dog-star, called swart because 
it was thought to be a swart-m.3ik.ing (i.e., tanning) star. Hales says it 
" rose at Athens about the time of the greatest heat, and was therefore 
supposed to cause that heat." 

54 139. Quaint. Curious, fantastic. Enamelled, "variegated and 
glossy as enamel-work" (Verity). Eyes, blossoms. 

54 140. Honeyed. Explain the formation of this word ; cf. mitred, 

54 1-41. Purple. Empurple ; but here used, like the Latin purpureus, 
for any bright color (Jerram). Vernal flowers ; Keightley observes that 
some of the flowers belong to summer and autumn. 

54-55 142-151. Bring the rathe primrose, etc. This passage 
should be carefully compared with other passages of this sort in 
English poetry, — for instance, Spenser, Shepheardes Calender, Eel. 
iv. 136-144, Shakspere, W. T. iv. 4. 73-129, Cymb. iv. 2. 218-229, 
Ben Jonson, Pan's Anniversary, Milton, P. L. iv. 692-703, Keats, En- 
dymion ii. 408-419. The reader will also call to mind many poems 



NOTES. 127 

like Wordsworth's Daffodils, poems devoted to the praise of flowers. 
See Ruskin, Modern Painters, Pt. III. sec. 2, chap. 3, for a distinction 
between fancy and imagination as well as for the application of the 
same to Lye. 142-148, and to W. T. iv. 4. 116-125. He says: "In 
Milton it happens, I think, generally, and in the case before us most 
certainly, that the imagination is mixed and broken with fancy, and so 
the strength of the imagery is part of iron and part of clay." In 1. 142 
he finds "Imagination," 1. 143 "Nugatory," 1. 144 "Fancy," 1. 145 
"Imagination," 1. 146 "Fancy, vulgar," 1. 147 "Imagination," 1. 148 
" Mixed." On the passage from the W. T., he says : " Observe how the 
imagination in these last lines goes into the very inmost soul of every 
flower, after having touched them all at first with that heavenly timid- 
ness, the shadow of Proserpine's ; and gilded them with celestial gather- 
ing, and never stops on their spots, or their bodily shape, while Milton 
sticks in the stains upon them, and puts us off with that unhappy freak 
of jet in the very flower that without this bit of paper-staining would 
have been the most precious to us of all. ' There is pansies, that 's for 
thoughts.' " 

54 142. Rathe. Early; cf. Tennyson, In Memoriam ex. What 
meaning do you find in primrose? Why forsaken ? Coleridge called 
this the "sweetest line in the Lycidas " {Anima Poetae, p. 61). See 
Introduction, xlii. 

54 144. The white pink, etc. Cf. C. 851. 

54 145. Glowing. Landor thought gloming would be better than 
glowing. Do you agree ? 

55 14S. Sad. See on 77 P. 43. 

55 149. Amaranthus. Etymological meaning? His, its. 

55 150. Fill their cups with tears. Explain. 

55 151. Laureate. Crowned with laurel. "The herse was a plat- 
form, decorated with black hangings, and containing an effigy of the de- 
ceased. Laudatory verses were attached to it with pins, wax, or paste." 
— Stanley, Memorials of Westminster Abbey, p. 341 (quoted by Jerram). 

55 152-164. For so, etc. What irregularity do you note in the 
construction of this passage ? 

55 153. Surmise. " The First and Second Editions have a full stop 
after '■surmise''', which rather impairs the effect of the meaning" 
(Masson). 

55 154. Shores. "Did Milton write shoals?" (Lowell). For a 
comment on this line, as well as II P. 74-75, see Lowell, Works 
(Houghton), Vol. IV. p. 100. 



128 NOTES. 

55 156. Hebrides. Locate. 

55 15S. The monstrous world. Explain; cf C. 533. For Shaks- 
pere's description of the monstrous world, see Rich. III. i. 4. 16-33. 

55 159. Moist vows. " Vows accompanied with tears " (Warton), 
possibly, as Bell suggests, referring " to those promises of thanksgiving 
and offerings made to Neptune that he might restore the bodies of 
those who had been drowned." 

55 160. The fable of Bellerus. The fabled abode of Bellerus. 
Bellerus seems to have been coined by Milton from Bellerium, the 
Roman name of Land's End. 

55 161. The great Vision of the guarded mount. "The < guarded 
(fortified) Mount ' is a steep rock opposite Marazion near Penzance, 
accessible from the land at low water. On it are the ruins of a fortress 
and a monastery, with a church dedicated to St. Michael ; at the summit 
is a craggy seat called St. Michael's chair, in which several apparitions 
of the archangel are reported to have been seen ; hence the ' great 
Vision' in the text" (Jerram). It seems better, however, to take 
guarded as referring to " the watch kept by the angel " (Hales). 

55 162. Namancos and Bayona's hold. Verity has a long note 
here, in which he attempts to show that Milton may have got these 
names from the edition of Mercator's Atlas published in 1636 (Todd, at 
the suggestion of a friend, first discovered the names in the editions of 
1623 and 1636), in which IVamancos is put down as a fortress in the 
Spanish province Galicia, near Cape Finisterre, with the castle {hold) 
of Bayona to the south, on the sea. 

55 163. Angel. St. Michael. For arguments favoring Lycidas as 
the angel addressed, see Jerram ; also consult Trent's note. 

55 164. Ye dolphins, etc. For the legend of Arion, see Class. Diet. 

55 165. Weep no more, etc. Keightley thus accentuates: 

" Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no m6re." 

Cf. Much Ado ii. 3. 64. Of the idea in the following lines, the beatifica- 
tion of the dead, many examples might be cited. See Epitaphium 
Damonis, Death of a Fair Infant, and Epitaph on the Marchioness of 
Winchester. 

55 166. Your sorrow. The object of your sorrow. Name the 
figure. 

55 168. The day-star. The sun; cf. II Peter i. 19. But see 
Jerram, who thinks that here, as in 1. 30, Milton " is most likely to 
have followed the usage of the ancients, who commonly speak of 



NOTES. 129 

Lucifer and Hesperus in this way." See what Nadal says on this 
passage in Library of the World 's Best Literature, Vol. XXV. p. 10,044. 

55 169. Anon. At once. Repairs, refreshes. 

55 170. Tricks. See on II P. 123. New-spangled ore, freshly glit- 
tering gold. For ore in the sense of " gold," cf. C. 933, Ham. iv. 1. 25, 
A. W. iii. 6. 40, etc. 

55 173. Him that walked the waves. Cf. Matt. xiv. 22 et sea. 
The allusion, as many editors have noted, is supremely apposite. 

55 174. Other groves, etc. Explain. 

55 175. With nectar, etc. Cf. C. 836 et sea. " Nectar with am- 
brosia is said to have been used by way of ablution to preserve immor- 
tality, as well as for the food and drink of the gods " (Jerram). He 
compares Iliad xiv. 170, xix. 39. Oozy locks ; why the epithet? 

55 176. Unexpressive. Inexpressible. Ahiptial song; cf. Rev. 
xix. 6-7. 

55 177. Kingdoms meek. Explain. 

56 178. Entertain. Receive. 

56 1S1. And wipe the tears, etc. Cf. Rev. vii. 17, xxi. 4, Isaiah 
xxv. 8. 

56 1S3. The Genius of the shore. Note the return to paganism. 
This mingling of pagan and Christian elements is a relic of the tendency 
that ran riot in Spenser's Faerie Queene and similar works of the Eng- 
lish Renaissance. On this point see Beers, Hist, of Eng. Rom., p. y]. 

56 1S4. In thy large recompense. That is, by way of large reward 
to thee. 

56 185. Perilous. A dissyllable. 

56 186. Uncouth. Unknown; some, however, prefer to take the 
word in the sense of " rude," " uncultivated." See on HAL 5. 

56 187. The still morn, etc. Cf. C. 188-190, P. R. iv. 426-427. 
Richard Grant White, I believe, somewhere quotes Hani. i. 1. 166-167, 
in order to prove the superiority of Shakspere's imagination over 
Milton's. Find the lines, and compare them with this. 

56 188. Stops of various quills. The stops are here the small 
holes in the shepherds' pipes {quills) by which the sound is regulated. 
See on C. 345 ; cf. Ham. iii. 2. 360-389. See on 77 P. 82. 

56 189. Doric. Pastoral ; Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus wrote 
the Doric dialect. If the student does not read Greek, he should 
make the acquaintance of these poets through the prose version by 
Andrew Lang. 

56 190. And now the sun, etc. Cf Virgil, Eclogue i. 84 : Majoresque 



130 NOTES. 

cadunt altis de montibus umbrce. Do you get the full meaning of 
Milton's line ? 

56 193. To-morrow to fresh woods, etc. As Masson observes, this 
line is frequently misquoted, fields being substituted for woods. He 
compares Phineas Fletcher, Purple Island (1633), vi. 77-78 : 

" Home, then, my lambs ; the falling drops eschew : 
To-morrow shall ye feast in pastures new." 

In the fresh woods, etc., there is a very probable allusion to Milton's 
projected Italian tour, if we do not read into the passage a more 
definite reference than he intended to convey. 



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